


The Smith with the Dark Heart

by MayaMarkova



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Burning of the Ships at Losgar, Dagor Dagorath, Darkening of Valinor, F/M, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), Flight of the Noldor, Gen, Halls of Mandos, Post-Canon, Silmarils, Valinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaMarkova/pseuds/MayaMarkova
Summary: The two most notorious elf smiths of the First Age, reembodied in Valinor. In the Silmarillion, Melian refers to Eol as a smith with a dark heart, and it is mentioned elsewhere that young Galadriel saw darkness in Feanor, so the phrase can be applied to him as well – you decide.
Relationships: Past Aredhel/Eöl (Tolkien), Past Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel - Relationship
Comments: 51
Kudos: 19





	1. Return to Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Celestial Sphere](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339356) by [SpaceWall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWall/pseuds/SpaceWall). 



The spirit of Eöl had no idea how much time he had spent in Mandos, he only knew that it had been ages. They had offered him release once, and had withdrawn the offer after he had put conditions, so he thought he’d never had an opportunity to live again. But now, a dark-cloaked Maia was standing in front of him and promising exactly this.

‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘You are to be returned to life. Your new body is ready.’

‘Are you sure it is for me?’ Eöl asked. ‘I think you are making a mistake.’

‘I am making no mistake, Eöl of Nan Elmoth. Come, now! We have no time to lose.’

He led Eöl to some room that was painted in white and lit by lamps. In a corner, Námo himself was sitting on a chair. He looked at Eöl and greeted him by a slight nod. In the center, two female Maiar were standing at the opposite sides of a bed covered by a sheet. They were dressed in white, unusual garment color for Mandos yet fitting this strange room. Námo and the Maia who had brought Eöl looked out of place here in their dark cloaks. However, all four Ainur had something in common: they seemed anxious and trying to hide it.

‘Look at the bed, Eöl!’ Námo ordered. The two white-cloaked Maiar pulled up the sheet and revealed what was lying beneath. It was a body, with the face Eöl had long ago seen in mirrors – his face. ‘Now, lie down next to the body, and press yourself toward it!’

Eöl did this, and the way he was seeing things changed. Now, he had view only of objects in front of him, but was seeing them very clearly. He realized that he was in the body and was using the eyes. The Ainur, however, looked as anxious as before, if not even more. One of the female Maiar had placed her hand on her neck; he was feeling the gentle touch of her fingers.

‘Nothing,’ she reported.

‘Try to take a breath, Eöl!’ the male Maia said. ‘Remember the forest air, the fresh smell of the trees! We have magnificent forests in Aman, you’ll like them.’

‘The forests may be nice, but this land is foreign to me, and I never liked people coming from it,’ Eöl replied. He did not try to talk but sent his thoughts instead, as if he was still a naked spirit.

‘No way to return you to your birthplace,’ said the Maia. ‘With time, you’ll become used to this land. After all, it is now home to your former servants, and to your wife and son, so it is proper for you to accept it as your home as well. You should be happy to return to the same place where your people are.’

These words filled Eöl with hope. Only now he realized how much he longed to see his family again. He missed them so much, and had completely forgiven their treachery. Apparently they had realized their mistakes and were looking forward to their reunion with him. He would pretend to be angry at them for a little, so that they never pulled a similar stunt again… No, he couldn’t find it in his heart. He would just hug them both. As he indulged in hopeful thoughts, he heard a soft, forgotten sound inside his chest.

‘Heartbeat!’ triumphantly exclaimed the Maia who was touching his neck.

‘You must now name someone who knows you in Aman,’ continued the male Maia. ‘Say your wife’s name. You can also name your son, for he is of age now.’

Eöl tried to speak, but sharp unbearable pain pierced his chest like a bunch of blades. He cried.

‘Breathing!’ announced happily the second Maia in white, then praised him: ‘Excellent! Don’t worry about the pain, it is perfectly normal, and will subside. It is always painful when air first fills brand new lungs. Now, you know how newborn babies feel!’

Eöl blinked and took another breath. It was indeed less painful. 

‘Aredhel,’ reported he his wife’s name. His voice, used for first time, sounded coarse and strange. He realized that they actually had not needed the name, just wanted him to start breathing and talking. They were treating him like a small child… but, to be fair, he was in many respects like one. He was even naked like a newborn, in front of two ladies. Realizing this, Eöl felt embarrassed. He tried to hide himself as much as possible with his hands, and succeeded at the second attempt. The Maiar in white gave him encouraging smiles, and one of them showed him a grey shirt.

‘This is for you, if you feel ready,’ she said. Then she and her comrade gently held him and helped him sit up and put on the shirt.

‘Thank you,’ said Eöl, trying not to think of the burning sensation that every touch caused.

‘Don’t worry if it feels like nettle,’ the other female Maia said. ‘Your skin is new and hypersensitive, but this too will pass with time.’

‘I think we have done our work,’ said Námo. ‘Good luck, Eöl, and abstain from follies in the future!’

He and the two females left the room, leaving only the dark-cloaked male. Relieved of the formidable presence of the Vala, Eöl realized that the room was very cold, and the shirt was of little help. He shivered.

‘Are you dizzy?’ the Maia asked. Eöl shook his head. ‘If not, then we can try to stand up. Be careful, please… Very well! Now, try to walk, if you remember how this is done! Keep close to the wall.’

Slowly and carefully, Eöl put his left foot forward, then his right one. He could walk, though he was shaking a little. The Maia was standing next to him, ready to hold him, and slowly led him out of the room. As they went into a corridor, the Maia started to instruct Eöl:

‘Once outside, walk until you find yourself on green grass. Do not stop or turn back! You will be met outside, and will be given what you need. Here is the gate, I’ll open it so that you can walk out. Have a nice life, and be careful not to come back!’ 

He turned to the wall and pulled some lever.


	2. An unpleasant surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eol is welcomed to his new life by a person he has never seen or wished to.

The heavy iron gate opened to let Eöl through. He walked out and it closed behind him. The real world was overwhelming. The light, which seemed to come from everywhere, was blinding Eöl, and he felt the wind so sharply as if not only the shirt but also his brand new skin did not exist and his flesh was exposed directly to the elements. Putting his right hand over his eyes to protect them a little, he looked around. The ground was covered with yellow dust with which the wind was playing, lifting it into the air to form strange shapes. Nothing else could be seen. Eöl remembered what the Maia had said and walked forward, each step painful for his sensitive bare feet. He passed about twenty strides when he mentioned a change in the surrounding. Short, feeble grass appeared in the dust, and the view cleared, showing trees, hills and blue sky. After a dozen more strides, the grass became strong and bright green. Eöl stopped and looked around.

He would be met, so the Maia had said. And indeed, some elf was approaching, but it was neither his wife nor his son. For a moment, Eöl blinked in disbelief because the figure in front of his eyes looked quite like Curufin son of Fëanor. No, it was not Curufin, but the likeness was remarkable; and at any rate the stranger’s black curly hair and the shape of his nose revealed him as one of the blasted Noldor invaders. Well, truth be said, they were not invaders here in Aman, but why was he met by this person instead of Aredhel and Maeglin? 

‘You are Eöl of Nan Elmoth, aren’t you?’ the Noldo said. ‘Hail and welcome! I am here to meet you and take you to your new home.’

‘Who are you?’ Eöl asked. He was shivering in his thin grey shirt and he had no idea where he had to go, but he wouldn’t follow some Noldo who had such poor manners that didn’t bother even to introduce himself.

‘My name is Curufin Fëanor.’

Eöl initially thought that he had misheard. Or maybe it was a coincidence? But no, he was just inventing convoluted explanations, when the simplest one would fit best. Eöl’s glance, still somewhat blurry, mentioned a big ugly ring on the right hand of the Noldo, his only adornment. It was actually a seal, and though Eöl could not see the details, the shape was definitely of a star. He remembered that when he had met Curufin in Beleriand, the Noldo had been wearing an eight-pointed star, the sigil of the House of Fëanor. Still, he had to ask to be sure.

‘The Fëanor?’

‘Yes. Come now, the cart is under those trees…’

But Eöl was no longer listening. Indignation choked him. He turned his back to Fëanor and returned to the gate of Mandos that had closed behind him only moments ago. Reaching it, he started banging on the iron with his fists.

‘Open the blasted door!’ he shouted. ‘Let me back inside!’

‘Eöl, please calm down!’ Fëanor said softly. He had followed him and was now standing several strides away. ‘Or they will hear you. No use angering Lord Námo’s people! Why are you so angry, did they promise you something?’

But even if Eöl were inclined to listen, it was too late. The gate opened abruptly and Eöl, as he was banging against it, lost his support and almost fell. A figure appeared behind it. Eöl recognized the same Maia who had seen him off and had closed the gate behind him.

‘Eöl! I told you not to come back! What’s happening?’ he asked, then turned to Noldo: ‘Hail Fëanáro! While I am glad to see you in good condition, I expected more common sense from you at least.’

‘Hail Amnon!’ said Fëanor. ‘I am sorry but Eöl panicked when he heard my name, and I am now trying to convince him that he is safe with me.’

‘No I didn’t panic!’ shouted Eöl to the Maia. ‘I am outraged. You promised me my family, and instead you are leaving me in the hands of the worst kinslayer that ever existed, the one who brought devastation to my homeland! You lied to me! Let me back in Mandos, it was better there!’

‘I didn’t lie to you,’ answered Amnon. ‘I just told you that it would be wonderful to return living to the Blessed Realm where your wife and son live. I also told you that you would be met, but I never promised that they would meet you. And I cannot accept you back. You have a live body now, and you know very well that Mandos is not for the living.’

‘Then, take my body away! I refuse to go anywhere with a fucking Noldo kinslayer!’

‘What does “fucking” mean?’ Amnon asked, looking not at Eöl but at Fëanor.

‘It is an obscenity, similar to “blasted” but stronger,’ said Fëanor. ‘The literal meaning relates to intercourse. The word is thought to have originated among the Alqualondëan mariners who use many strong expressions in their language, but it is far more widespread now. It is interesting that Eöl, a Sinda, uses it. Unless he has learned it from Lindar in the Halls, this means that it is more ancient than thought, and may be pan-Telerin in origin and predating the separation of Lindar and Sindar. Of course it could have evolved twice independently, but this is unlikely.’

Both Amnon and Eöl stood silent for a moment. Eöl was the first to regain speech.

‘How dare you talk so lightly about the innocents you have massacred!’ he shouted.

‘Oh, it wasn’t as unilateral as you are apparently imagining it. The Lindar fought impressively, despite being surprised and poorly armed. Thrice did they repel my followers and killed many of them, and our quest would have ended there if my nephew and his people had not come to aid. The mariners of Alqualondë are natural born warriors. Had they decided to ally with us and not with Morgoth, maybe the First Age would have taken another, better course.’

‘I see that you have resumed your language studies,’ remarked Amnon, as Eöl stood speechless again. Then the Maia turned to Eöl: ‘Once we have clarified “fucking”, let’s return to “kinslayer”. While it is true that Fëanáro is one, I am afraid that this word has little weight in your mouth. Kinslaying is exactly what brought you to Mandos in the first place. And your behavior clearly shows that you haven’t used your time to reflect on your mistakes. Maybe you would have indeed benefited from a longer stay.’

‘I beg to differ,’ intervened Fëanor. ‘To me, Eöl has stayed in Mandos a few millennia longer than necessary, hence his difficulty readapting to life. And of course he does not consider himself a kinslayer. First, the word is traditionally used only for Noldor, so a Sinda such as Eöl is not considered a kinslayer, no matter what kin he has slain. Second, whom did he kill? His own runaway wife as she was trying to sever the sacred bond of marriage which, according to the views of that time, was to be upheld at all costs. Moreover, the victim was regarded as deserving death simply for being where she was, and Eöl had every reason to think that killing her was sanctioned by the Valar and the right thing to do.’

‘Really? Where did you get this from?’ asked Amnon.

‘From the highest authority in these matters, Lord Námo himself. Need I remind it?’ The voice of Fëanor changed, acquiring some of the gravity of the Vala of death. _‘On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. The Valar have spoken.’_ He added then in his previous voice, ‘I don’t think this leaves much room for alternative interpretation, for Aredhel did follow me, though I never wanted her to.’

A short silence followed.

‘And now you are forcing me to follow him and bring the same Doom on myself,’ added Eöl, seizing the opportunity.

‘Not quite,’ objected Amnon. ‘See, you are released on the condition to dwell for at least a yen in the northern domain of Formenos, which is ruled by Lord Fëanáro. This is why he is here for you, and you must follow him, like it or not. But if you behave well, you will be allowed to relocate after the yen, and will be free from the Doom.’

‘Lord?!’ exclaimed Eöl. ‘Now, this is utter disgrace! Wasn’t it said that this kinslayer would not be returned until Arda breaks? Yet here he is, a lord again, bossing people around as if nothing has happened! I don’t want to live in a land with no justice!’ 

‘Fëanáro’s release was sanctioned by Lord Námo, and his lordship was given by Lord Manwë. Do you think you have a better judgement than the Valar, Eöl?’

‘And what exactly prevents the Valar from having poor judgement? They cursed and doomed the Noldor for their crimes, so far so good, but then forgave and rescued them! But kinslaying and land grabbing is wrong, and no Vala’s word can magically make it right! If the Valar say that two and two is five, will it become five, and should we say that it is? No. I refuse to obey him, and anybody who puts me under his command!’

‘You hate the Noldor, yet you sound quite like one of them at their finest. You actually remind me of Fëanáro when he first came to Mandos.’

Eöl dug into his memory to remember everything he knew about Fëanor – what Aredhel had told him, and what he had learned later in Mandos.

‘At least, I have never sworn a blasphemous Oath with Manwë and Varda as witnesses!’ he stated with satisfaction. ‘Wasn’t it dooming him to everlasting darkness if he failed to retrieve his stupid Silmarils? And he failed, so why is he even existing, let alone being a lord?’

These words finally hit a raw nerve. Fëanor slightly flinched, and Amnon spoke with a serious voice:

‘Say this not to Fëanáro, Eöl! Anything else, but not this!’

‘And why not? Isn’t it the truth?’

‘Because, when you learn some things, you’ll regret your words.’

‘It isn’t the truth,’ replied Fëanor. He was quite composed again. ‘The Oath wasn’t just about me, it was about me and my kin. One of the Silmarils is currently kept by a kinsman of mine. The other two were retrieved by my sons, who dealt with their heirloom as they saw fit. So my Oath was fulfilled. Now, listen! The Valar did say they would keep me in Mandos, and did intend to do so, but as circumstances changed, they had to reconsider. I’ll explain to you how I got there, and then how I became a lord, once we leave this gate behind – everything you’d wish.’

‘I don’t believe you!’ Eöl shouted. ‘I believe what I see, and I see that the kinslaying Noldor are always darlings of the Valar and never suffer, can at worst be downgraded from prince to lord, while we Teleri always get the short end of the stick!’

‘It is true that I was born a prince and I am now a lord, but you are mistaken if you think I have not suffered.’

‘Come on, Eöl!’ Amnon appealed. ‘Are you serious? Don’t you see Fëanáro’s scars at least? Or maybe you think it has been painless to get them?’

Eöl looked at Fëanor more carefully. The Noldo was wearing a black sleeveless shirt. His exposed arms were striped by long and thick pale scars, the unmistakable marks of a severe whipping. Well, maybe there had been some retribution. Meanwhile, Fëanor addressed him again:

‘I understand your anger. Amnon has apparently said something that strictly meant just that you would step on the same continent where your wife and son live, but deliberately misled you to think that they would be here awaiting you with a giant bunch of flowers. And instead, you are met by a stranger, and a notorious Noldo kinslayer to boot. He did almost the same when they were releasing me. This is his favorite trick, to put some bait when life itself is not attractive enough – and when the spirit finds out the deceit, it’s too late, he is stuck in a body and has to deal with life.’

‘You should be grateful that I saved your life!’ Amnon protested.

‘I _am_ grateful. Maybe Eöl will also be grateful, in due time. But for now, we are still trying to make him walk away from Mandos, without me knocking him out and dragging him.’

‘Good idea! This is what I like about the Noldor, they always have backup plans,’ approved Amnon, then asked: ‘Who’s there? This is starting to look like an invasion!’

Eöl looked in the same direction and, indeed, saw another elf coming to them.

‘Our coachman,’ answered Fëanor and shouted to the approaching figure: ‘Go back, Calarondo! Stay away! We are coming!’ Then he turned to Eöl again: ‘Come now and we’ll be in Formenos tonight. Then you’ll converse with nicer people, none of them Noldor, and may not see me for years. But if you continue to waste time, we may be forced to spend the night together in some trashy overcrowded inn north of Tirion, sharing a room with each other plus cockroaches and maybe rats.’

‘And sharing a bed as well, I suppose,’ Amnon remarked.

‘Oh yes, in that sort of accommodation it is a rare luck to have a bed all for yourself.’

Eöl had already understood that he had no choice but to go with the kinslayer, but didn’t want to give in so easily. Was such a life worth living? The mere thought made tears fill his eyes. He strained himself to keep them where they were. The last thing he wanted was to be seen weeping.

‘I may come to your place, but I will not serve you!’ he told Fëanor.

‘Of course you won’t! Eru save me from your service!’

‘And you won’t get any respect from me.’

‘As you wish.’

‘Very well, then,’ Amnon said. ‘Now, get away quickly, both of you, because I will count to twenty and then turn on the protective field manually, and I won’t care who is still in its range!’

‘Farewell!’ said Fëanor to him, as the Maia was stepping back and closing the gate. Then the fucking kinslayer walked forward, followed reluctantly by Eöl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eöl, speaking Sindarin, should say Golodh instead of Noldo, but I preferred the more popular Quenya version.  
>  I needed a name for the Maia, and the only quasi-canonical that I find for a Maia of Mandos was Amnon, who prophesied the fall of Gondolin in Tolkien’s early writing.


	3. The coachman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eol converses with the Vanya coachman who drives him away from the gates of Mandos.

As they were walking away from the gate, the earth started to vibrate under their feet, and Eöl felt unpleasant itching in his body.

‘The protective field,’ remarked Fëanor. ‘Amnon knows one should always make good on one’s promises and threats. Don’t worry, at this distance it is too weak to hurt us. Keep walking!’

Indeed, as the gate of Mandos remained further and further behind, the strange unpleasant sensation became weaker and weaker and finally disappeared. They reached thick green grass and stopped next to a tree. The third elf was also there, waiting. Fëanor poked inside a large bag hanging on his shoulder, took out a pair of black breeches and handed them to Eöl.

‘I don’t need any gifts from you!’ Eöl said, shivering under the cold wind. Strangely, the sun was bright, Fëanor and the other elf were lightly dressed and did not seem to suffer, yet he was freezing.

‘This is no gift but your entitlement, according to the law. Take it!’ said Fëanor, then turned to the coachman: ‘Why did you come? The Maia accused me of starting an invasion.’

‘I thought that something had gone wrong, and you’d need my help to get the newcomer into the cart.’ The coachman’s Sindarin was coarse, unlike the almost perfect pronunciation of Fëanor. Eöl looked at him. Was he one of Fëanor’s servants? His hair was golden, unusual for a Noldo but not unheard of. Aredhel’s niece also had golden hair.

‘Who are you?’ Eöl asked angrily. ‘Another blasted Noldo kinslayer?’

‘No, I am a Vanya. Like most people here. This is Vanyarin land.’

‘Then, why are you behaving like a servant of Fëanor? Why do you think you have a right to kidnap and drag me against my will? I am not your pet or thrall!’

‘My job today is to bring you to our village, where you’ll have your breakfast at our inn, the Happy Meetings. And I wouldn’t leave anyone confused at the gate of Mandos. It is not healthy to linger there, even if the protective field is off.’

‘What is that field?’ Eöl asked. It was Fëanor who answered.

‘It is of the nature of light but invisible, and causes convulsions, burns and other damage to living things. It was installed because otherwise Mandos would be invaded by life forms like any other cave, and Lord Námo doesn’t want slimy growths on the floor and bat colonies at the ceiling. The field is set to switch off automatically when a living elf enters its range, though sometimes they turn it on when someone insists too much to have a loved one released. But I have completely forgotten my manners! Eöl – Calarondo. Eöl, take these.’ 

He put out a pair of shoes made mostly of cloth. Eöl took them and looked at them in disarray, because their laces were too short and broad to be tied.

‘Just put the shoes on your feet, pull the laces to tighten them, then bend the laces and they will stick. Like mine,’ said Fëanor. ‘I am sorry that they are too big, but I couldn’t know your size, and better too big than too small.’

Eöl followed the instructions and saw that, indeed, the inner surface of the laces was sticky. Then Fëanor gave him a black cloak, a hair tie like the one he was wearing himself – with black cloth outside and some strange elastic material inside, easily holding the hair into a ponytail, and finally, a frame holding two pieces of darkened glass meant to be placed in front of the eyes. 

Eöl was happy to receive these items except the last one, which looked like a deliberate slight.

‘You have prepared this because they call me the Dark Elf?’ he asked indignantly. ‘You are hinting that I hate the sun?’

Fëanor sighed.

‘Look at this, Eöl, you are a craftsman, and they say a good one. The smooth surface and rounded shape are hallmarks of a mass produce. All newly reembodied are irritated by bright light and even shed tears, because their pupils cannot yet adjust properly. The dark glasses reduce the irritation. So your treatment is not as personal as you think it.’

‘If you’re ready, let’s go to the cart!’ said Calarondo in his heavy accent. ‘Your breakfast must be cold already!’

‘By the way,’ Fëanor added, ‘many newly returned lack perfect control over their bladders and bowels. These abilities are recovered quickly, but it is a little awkward at the beginning. Don’t worry, just say if something happens.’

Eöl silently prayed not to have an accident with his bladder or bowel among those hostile people. At least, it seemed that the tears in his eyes were explained away as mere irritation. 

The three elves took their places in the cart and Calarondo commanded the horses to go. They pulled the cart along a dusty country road, between green fields and pastures. Flocks of cows and sheep could be seen, and many elves mowing the grass. Fëanor opened his mind, letting Eöl feel his strong sense of relief. Eöl was surprised but not delighted.

‘I have not asked for your thoughts and feelings, and I don’t want them,’ he said. ‘I don’t wish to touch your mind, kinslayer. It’s hardly a nice place to visit.’

‘I am not forcing you,’ Fëanor replied. ‘But you said that you don’t believe me. I may be a kinslayer and many other things, but I am not a liar. So I wish you to see that I am saying the truth, unless I am lying also to myself.’

‘Did you really think what you told the Maia?’

‘Not quite everything. About Aredhel, definitely not. It was a mind game of the type he loves to play. He knows very well by now that it was a mistake to keep elves in Mandos for millennia, yet he pretended to support this policy. So I claimed that you were innocent, which I don’t think. But the facts I cited were true.’

‘I suppose you consider me a monster and yourself honorable?’

‘I wouldn’t use such charged words, but you heard that Amnon considered me a paragon of common sense, compared to you. I had never expected to receive such praise, especially from a Maia of Mandos!’

‘Oh they seem to have quite a high opinion of you, to put people like me in your care! They apparently think that you are exactly what a newly returned needs to see. A nice beginning of the new life!’

‘I don’t meet all newly returned, just a few high-profile cases.’

‘Why do you hate Fëanáro so much?’ asked Calarondo. ‘Has he wronged you, or someone near and dear to you?’

‘He brought his people to wreak havoc in my homeland. And he slew my kin in Alqualondë – or is this news to you?’

‘Of course I know about the First Kinslaying. I have met many of the victims here, and have driven them in this same cart. But I think that we should not dwell too much upon past misdeeds, because everyone has something in his past he isn’t proud of.’

‘Oh really?’ asked Eöl, annoyed by this absurd defense. ‘And what is yours, then?’

The answer came immediately.

‘When I was fifty, I negligently let our best cow Sarandile eat too much alfalfa. Her stomach bloated. Healing of animals wasn’t as advanced at that time as it is now. My father had to slaughter her to bring her out of her misery.’ 

‘But this was just an accident. It was no crime.’

‘Oh, I have committed a crime as well. We are all convicted criminals in this cart. But I am ashamed of our cow’s death, not of my crime.’ Calarondo sighed. ‘She most likely wouldn’t have lived long anyway, because very soon after her death came the Darkening with the Great Famine. Nevertheless, the memory saddens me to this day.’

‘Great Famine? I thought Valinor was the land of milk and honey.’

‘Most of the time, yes. But when Morgoth brought the monstrous spider Ungoliant to kill the Two Trees, and Valinor went dark, we lost our food sources until the Sun rose.’

‘Why? In Middle-earth, food could be found even under the stars.’

‘Because the plants in Middle-earth were used to the scarce light, and the elves were few. However, our fields needed abundant light, and there was a large population that depended on our crops. When we lost the light, we lost the crops as well. The remnants of the previous year’s harvest suddenly became very precious. Our king Ingwë immediately introduced food rationing and cancelled all promised food shipments to Tirion and Alqualondë. The Alqualondëans were getting most of their food from the sea anyway, but the Noldor depended on our grain, and we were afraid that they would fight us for it. They had swords and we hadn’t, so we prepared our best pitchforks and scythes, and made extra arrows for our hunting bows. It brought us great relief to hear that Fëanáro and his brother Nolofinwë had led most Noldor away from our lands to Middle-earth.’

‘Maybe it brought you relief, but it was a disaster for us who happened to live there, not to mention Alqualondë.’

‘Did the Noldor attack you to take your food?’ Calarondo asked. 

‘They took our land...’ 

‘Can you name a single Noldo lord who has taken lands populated by your people?’ Fëanor asked. ‘No, you can’t. Because we settled on lands from which we had expelled Morgoth’s orcs.’

Eöl paid no attention to the interruption and continued:

‘…But you apparently cannot understand, because it was so far from your home. I even wonder how you have learned to speak our language, even if not very well.’ He didn’t dare to voice his hope that all Valinoreans had abandoned the speech of the kinslayers.

‘I learned it in Beleriand during the War of Wrath. I admit I am not good with languages. My wife’s Sindarin is far better, though she has never been to Middle-earth. But now I am speaking it in your honor. It would of course be easier for Fëanáro and me to converse in our Quenya language.’

‘So what did you do after Fëanor and his Noldor went on their kinslaying ways?’

‘We remained to eat quietly our ever-dwindling food reserves, hoping that the Valar would make or find some new light source. They eventually did, but until that time, we suffered a lot. Especially the townsfolk, who lived on meager rations and boiled leather, with an occasional rat as a delicacy. They just lied at the feet of the Valar in silent supplication. We in the countryside at least had some leaves and mushrooms and buds to pick, and roots to dig, and more rats and mice and grubs. And of course we had to slaughter most of our livestock, chickens, and even most of the horses, dogs and cats. My parents never quite got over it, and decided to quit farming. Once the Sun rose and the famine was over, they sold most of their land and turned the farmhouse into an inn, the only one in the village. My wife and I are running it now.’

Eöl was quite surprised to hear that the Valinorean Elves of the Light had suffered a famine bad enough to make them eat rats and grubs. It was difficult to believe it now, looking at the fields and pastures around – a green country under the swift sunrise. Then he returned to a casual remark of Calarondo.

‘You said that you have done a crime but you are not ashamed of it. What was it?’

‘I was exiled for ten years because I wanted to help people like you, the natives and guests of Middle-earth. You see, it was clear to me and my best friends that we the elves of Valinor would eventually have to go to war against Morgoth. We knew that the Valar would sooner or later change their minds and summon us, and wanted to prepare properly. As soon as we had our first harvest under the Sun, we took some bags of wheat and barley and went to Tirion to trade food for weapons. It was like a ghost city, because most Noldor were away, and the few who had remained were lying on their beds, emaciated. They initially said they were very loyal and had no military gear, but when they saw the grain, their eyes widened, and they brought out everything we wanted. Swords, shields, armor. I suppose that had we asked for siege engines, we’d get them as well. So we armed ourselves and started to train in the meadows surrounding the village. Some of my friends had to tend to flocks. They were leaving them to graze while we trained. Unfortunately, some goats once went into an orchard without any of us noticing, and did great damage to the young trees, as goats like to do.’

‘Were you in charge of those goats?’ Eöl asked.

‘No, a friend of mine was. But then things escalated. The owner of the orchard came enraged. We apologized, promised to pay all the damage caused by the goats. But he was still possessed by anger. It was understandable. The property damage aside, he had planted those young trees, had cared for them and loved them. He shouted at my friend the goatherd and called him names. And when he – the owner – called my friend son of a bitch, my friend took it as an insult to his mother, and hit the owner hard in the face.’

‘Good that you didn’t grab your swords,’ mentioned Fëanor.

‘Yes, it is scary to think how close we were to a kinslaying, over such a stupid thing. The punch of course didn’t kill the owner but broke his nose. My friend was put on trial. We the others were summoned also, we thought as witnesses. Yet the judge had more interest in our training for war than in the goat mischief and the bloody nose. He asked us whether we intended to follow in the footsteps of the rebellious Noldor. We answered that we wouldn’t go to war without the Valar’s permission. He said that the Valar were not planning a war and didn’t want elves of Valinor, other than the guards, to bear arms. I said that the Valar hopefully were not intending to leave Morgoth to his own devices, because they had already done this before, and the results had been dismal. For this, I was exiled for ten years, like the goatherd. The other friends were exiled for five years. And of course they took away our swords. Those were crazy times.’ Calarondo sighed. ‘No one settlement wanted to take us, so we built huts at the western shore and survived on fish, game and wild plants. After that, we bought new swords secretly, and made sure not to be seen with them again, and always to know the whereabouts of the goats. But when the Valar finally summoned us for the War of Wrath, our efforts were rewarded. We were among the very few who were in good bodily shape and had some skills with weapons. Many of the others were so inexperienced and unprepared that it was a pity to look at them. They were hurting themselves or their comrades because they couldn’t properly carry and use their weapons. Hundreds were killed or maimed this way before we even saw the enemy.’

Calarondo sighed, then turned to Fëanor:

‘Talking about guards, I saw a few around your cart just as we were leaving.’

‘I also saw them. They seemed to have an unhealthy interest in it.’

‘Maybe it’s best to move it out of their range. You can leave Eöl with Lote for a little while and drive your cart to the next village, and then I can bring you back in my cart. Or I could do this, though this cart is too awe-inspiring for my taste.’

‘Thank you, but no. The cart will stay where it is. I have neither stolen it nor hit anyone with it, nor even left it in a wrong place.’

‘True, but our guards are nasty sons of bitches.’

‘We’ll survive them somehow.’

‘They will spoil your mood, and give Eöl a bad impression of Valinor. All because they are envious of your cart.’ Calarondo turned to Eöl and continued jokingly. ‘Fëanáro is so modest – plain clothing, no jewelry, if you meet him in the street, you’ll never guess that he is a lord. That is, until you see his cart. But don’t ever think that he satisfies his passion for nice carts at the expense of Formenos commoners. He is just advertising their production; because who will want to buy a cart made in Formenos if the Lord of Formenos himself doesn’t roll around in one of the best models?’

‘The cart is not even mine!’ protested Fëanor, quietly laughing. ‘It belongs to the Domain of Formenos. If I am forced to resign my position, it will remain for the next Lord.’

‘Sure it will,’ Calarondo laughed. ‘I see now that you have secured such a cart for entirely selfless reasons, to motivate yourself to govern well so that you are not sent packing by the Valar or King Arafinwë or your own people. I just wonder how you didn’t paint it red.’

‘I actually wanted to, but the colors of Formenos were the proper choice.’

‘Exactly, that’s a devoted Lord always serving his people!’ Calarondo laughed again, then became serious. ‘Are you sure you don’t want help in moving the cart? Because I have promised to help my friends with the haymaking.’

‘Go to make hay, then. Is there a lot of grass this spring?’

‘Like a jungle. But don’t think I am complaining! Plenty is a problem we always like to have.’

They were now entering the village. White houses with dark smooth roofs stood among colorful gardens. Calarondo soon stopped the cart in front of a house bigger than the others, and looking as if it had been overbuilt gradually.

‘We have arrived. This is our inn,’ he announced to Eöl. ‘Breakfast time!’

He stepped down and helped Eöl to get out of the cart. Fëanor followed them.

‘Now, I’ll go haymaking,’ the coachman added. ‘If you need me, call me by the palantir, but I’ll need time to come. Farewell!’

‘Thank you and farewell!’ replied Fëanor, then stepped to the door and told Eöl, ‘Come inside!’

Eöl followed him. He didn’t seem to have a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fëanor surely figured out that Eöl’s tears were not due to irritation alone.  
>  I didn’t want to depict the Vanyar as brainwashed worshippers of the Valar, so I preferred to make them rustic folk with some similarities to Hobbits.  
>  Sarandile means (I hope) “lover of grass”.  
>  The “cart” of Fëanor has little in common with that of Calarondo, and would be more accurately called a car. More about it later.


	4. Laurelote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beautiful stranger welcomes Eol at the inn and makes him think of the woman of his past life.

Fëanor led Eöl into a dining-hall full of tables and chairs, all empty. The interior was modest but cozy. White curtains with embroidered flowers and leaves were pulled aside, letting in the daylight through the windows, but still it was pleasantly mild, compared to the relentless sunshine outside. Eöl initially couldn’t see anybody, but a moment later, a smiling lady came to meet them. Her face was kind, with shining blue eyes. Her hair, golden like that of Calarondo, was tied into a braid falling over her back. She was wearing a white shirt with red embroidery, but most of it was covered by a dark blue dress, with a dark plaid apron in front. Eöl suddenly realized that all three people who had met him were wearing dark clothes, and wondered whether this was in his honor to spare his eyes more irritation.

‘Good morning and welcome!’ she greeted in quite decent Sindarin, looking at Eöl. ‘I am Laurelote, or just Lote, it would be Glorloth in your language. And I know you are Eöl of Nan Elmoth. I, together with my husband, keep this modest place. Come and take seats, please! You see that there is quite a choice, but I recommend you a table by the fireplace. The newly returned need warmth, and Fëanáro likes it.’

She led them to the table and invited them to sit down. Eöl chose a bench next to the wall, facing the fireplace. Fëanor sat down on a chair at the opposite side of the table.

‘Yes I do like warmth!’ he remarked. ‘And the green of spring! Formenos is still in the clutches of winter.’

‘The pure white of snow covering the earth like a blanket and reflecting starlight like spread gemstones?’

‘In the countryside, yes. But in the town, it is rather gray, sprinkled with black from soot. Where’s everyone?’

‘In the hills, making hay. Nobody will drop for lunch, though many took it in boxes. In the evening, they will come back, tired and hungry, and will try to eat the tables if I am not fast enough. But for now, you have the inn all for yourselves. Eöl, have you ever had problems drinking milk? No? Then, I’ll bring some, with toast. It is from our best cows.’

She disappeared for a short time, then came back with an overloaded tray. She placed two ceramic dishes and cups in front of the guests, then filled the cups with hot milk from a jug and left the jug with the rest of the milk in the middle of the table.

‘Scholars claim that we should welcome the newly returned with herbal tea and toasted bread,’ she remarked. ‘Not that they have ever welcomed anyone. They just sit in their white far-away cities and write books that are waste of paper, on matters they don’t really know anything about!’

‘Well said!’ Fëanor approved. ‘At least a third of what scholars publish is bullshit.’

‘And they have even put their loony ideas in the Law of Return, so I am now violating the law. How could herbal tea make anyone embrace life again? Yes, I know that your people drink lots of it in Formenos, but let’s not start from day one! Well, if you want it after all, it’s in this kettle. As for the toasted bread, it is not that bad, provided that it is served together with butter, white and yellow cheese, bacon, eggs, honey and strawberry jam.’

As she was speaking, she laid on the table the items she was mentioning, in such a way that the guests, especially Eöl, could easily pick anything they would like.

‘Eat slowly and chew well, Eöl! If you need the privy, that small door leads there. Now, I can leave you alone,’ she added, ‘or because I have no urgent work, I can keep you company for some time if you wish – whichever you prefer.’

Fëanor looked at Eöl, who figured out that the decision was his.

‘If you really don’t mind, Lady Glorloth,’ he said, ‘I’d prefer that you stayed with us. Being alone in the company of a kinslayer so soon after returning to life is a little too much for me.’

‘Please don’t lady me. And why don’t you stop calling Fëanáro a kinslayer? He has a name.’

‘He can call me this if he wishes,’ Fëanor remarked. ‘Kinslayer is my epesse.’

Eöl turned to him, enraged by the quiet, even voice.

‘Why are you so patient with me? Like some servant. You are known to be fell and fey.’

‘I may become fell and fey a little later. But before the newly reembodied have started breakfast, I try to say only nice things to them – or nothing at all.’

‘Oh really? I see I must enjoy your peaceful attitude while it lasts. Can you say a nice thing now?’

‘I admire your courage, to turn back and bang at Námo’s door. I wanted to do the same when they reembodied me, but didn’t dare. I was quite broken. Good that you haven’t let them break you! You are indeed a tough nut, as Námo called you in his letter, though I wonder how he picked the metaphor.’

‘You think it is good to be a tough nut?’

‘Yes, I do. Though one must make compromises from time to time. You must have been offered release before, and have declined. I can guess it, because I had to be the last to be released, and you are coming out long after me. I suppose that you found the terms they presented to you unacceptable.’

Old bitterness swept Eöl’s mind, making him forget how much he hated the kinslayer.

‘All I wanted was to be returned to my homeland of Nan Elmoth. Námo told me that it no longer belonged to my people, so I had to live in Valinor or stay dead. This choice was too much like the one Turgon gave me before murdering me!’

‘Alas, it is true that Middle-earth is no longer home to the elves. They were driven away first by Morgoth, then by Sauron, and finally by the Men.’

‘This is one of the reasons why I hate the Noldor. They brought Morgoth to our land.’ 

‘Why do you think that we were obliged to put up with Morgoth and appease him forever so that he would not go over to Middle-earth to harass you? We had endured enough from him. I had the honor to give him this beautiful name, after he killed my father and robbed me of my life’s work.’

‘Well, he killed your father and stole your work, and you killed a lot of innocent people at Alqualondë and stole their work, their ships.’

‘Eöl!’ exclaimed Laurelote, shaking her head. ‘Do you really need to discuss the sorrowful First Age history in this beautiful morning?’

‘It is easy for you to preach peace,’ Eöl admonished her. ‘You haven’t suffered from his deeds.’

‘Do you always jump to conclusions like this, without having the data?’ Fëanor asked. ‘Let me inform you, then, that you are mistaken. The Noldor I brought to Middle-earth haven’t wronged you in any way, except when Turgon sentenced you to death and executed you, but I suppose that any Sinda ruler in his position would have done the same to avenge his sister. So you haven’t really suffered from my deeds, unlike Laurelote who has suffered greatly.’

Surprised, Eöl looked at their hostess who silently nodded. So this beautiful and confident lady who treated Fëanor so friendly was one of his victims! Amazing.

‘What has he done to you?’ Eöl asked.

She made a short pause before replying:

‘Two of his sons, fulfilling his Oath, killed my father.’

Surprised, Eöl expected her to explain more, but she apparently didn’t wish to continue. Fëanor explained:

‘At the end of the War of Wrath, the victorious Host of Valinor captured Morgoth and retrieved the two Silmarils from his crown. My eldest sons Maedhros and Maglor, the only ones still alive by this time, asked for the Silmarils to be returned to them. The Valar’s emissary Eonwë refused, and placed the Silmarils under the guard of Lote’s father and another Vanya warrior. Well, which fool would have a contested asset of this value guarded by only two people? To cut a long story short, my sons sneaked into the camp under the cover of the night, and slew the two guards to take the Silmarils.’

In the short silence that followed, a shadow seemed to fall over the breakfast table. Then Laurelote tried to cheer them up:

‘This was why I came to live in this village. I am a native of the capital Valmar, but when I heard that my father was dead, I moved as close to Mandos as possible, to petition Námo to release him. Happily, he and his friend have already returned, quite a long time ago, and the old sorrow was laid to rest. I didn’t return to Valmar because I married here. Now, please pay some attention to the breakfast!’

Fëanor liftes his cup and drank from it. Eöl followed his example. The warm milk tasted sweeter than any he had drank before, or at least so it seemed to him. He took a piece of the toast and chewed it. Then, a sudden thought occurred to him.

‘All reembodied travel the same path and come to this village, don’t they?’ he asked Laurelote. ‘Have you seen my family? My wife Aredhel and my son Maeglin? They must have been here.’

‘Yes, I have welcomed them here. First your former wife, then your son. However, they use other names now.’

‘She calls herself by her father-name, Irissë,’ Fëanor intervened, ‘and your son prefers his mother-name, Lómion. He has added it to the name Maeglin which you gave him.’

‘So he hasn’t abandoned the name Maeglin?’ asked Eöl with hope, but Fëanor quashed it:

‘He is not allowed to. Criminals like us are obliged, whatever new name they choose, to keep the old one as well, so that people know who they are. And in your particular case, even when you serve your yen in Formenos and are allowed free travel, you will not be let within a mile of either Irissë or Lómion.’

‘Are you allowed within a mile of Alqualondë?’

‘No, I am not. I must dwell within Formenos unless specifically summoned by a higher authority, as now. And if this can be any consolation, I am not accepted by my family, either. My former wife thinks my life has been a shame and a failure, my sons blame me for ruining their lives, and my grandson finds me only marginally better than Sauron who tortured him to death. Oh yes, if you ask them, they have all forgiven me. Some of them have even made sacrifices for my well-being. But they don’t want anything to do with me. And they are not obliged to in the slightest. If they want me out of their lives, that’s that, and there is nothing I can do about it. Same goes for you.’

‘You, maybe. But I don’t intend to put up with this. I will fight for what is mine, and for those whom I love. I want to be fair, so I am giving you a notice.’

Fëanor’s eyes turned cold, and he hissed:

‘Then let me also give you a notice. Don’t even think of making this mistake again, or you’ll report to Lord Námo very soon.’ 

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘Yes, I am. Irissë is my niece, and if you ever harass her or her son again, I will personally take care of you. Leave them alone!’

‘Fëanáro!’ exclaimed Laurelote and cast an indignant look at the Noldo. ‘Please!’

Eöl was actually glad that the kinslayer had finally removed his nice mask and shown his true colors. He turned to Laurelote:

‘Don’t worry, I am used to such words and deeds. His kinsman Turgon murdered me the first time. These two-faced Noldorin lords are all the same, using their position to settle their personal scores without taking the slightest responsibility. They are quite happy to execute their foes after a mock-trial. But I am not afraid. I will get my family back, whatever the risk, because they are my life, and no Noldo kinslayer will stop me.’

‘Have I said anything about trial and execution?’ rhetorically asked Fëanor. ‘You won’t live to stand trial. I am not a judge, and I intend to dispatch you to Mandos personally by an old-fashioned kinslaying if the occasion arises. Unless Irissë’s other relatives get you first. And my position is irrelevant. In fact, I’ll leave a resignation letter on my desk before seeking you. Then news will spread across Aman that Fëanor has given up his lordship and is back in the kinslaying business, where his heart apparently belongs. As for the responsibility, you may be right. I suppose that whatever I do now, I’ll get away with a slap on the wrist.’

‘So you pretend to be my wife’s champion now? She hates you! You betrayed her and her people, you left them to cross the Grinding Ice! She had been stuck for a yen in Gondolin to take care of her niece because the girl’s mother had died on the Ice because of you!’

‘Yes, I failed Irissë and many others, but I don’t intend to fail her again. This is what I am trying to tell you, that we do not need to repeat our old mistakes. And I am in fact sure that you do not really intend to do any follies, you are better than this, and what you said was just breakfast talk. I just felt obliged to warn you, as I said. I am sorry if I sound judgmental, I do not mean it. After all, I have made most of your mistakes myself. You went mad when your wife left you, so did I. You tried to kill your son, I did kill one of my sons, and destroyed the lives of the rest as well. And I am not to judge a parent brought to such desperation as to think that his child is better off in Mandos. But the fact is that your mistakes ruined both Irissë and Lómion, and while they wish you all the best now, they don’t want you back in their lives.’

He brought out of his bag some rectangle made of metal and glass, the size of a palm, and put it in front of Eöl.

‘This is another one of your entitlements, a pocket palantir. When we arrive in Formenos, you will be taught, among other important skills, to use this device. With it, you can leave a message to Irissë and Lómion. Or, if you wish, you can send an old-fashioned letter. Or you can do both. You can inform them that you are back and intend to rebuild your life. You can apologize if you are sorry for what you did to them; but you do not need to if you don’t feel like it. In fact, it will matter little what you say. The important thing will be that your message will give them your address, and spare you the terrible doubt that maybe they wish to call you but don’t know how to find you.’

Eöl took the device without thanking, looked at it briefly, then put it into his pocket.

‘I hope we have peace again,’ Lote remarked. She went to a corner, took something out of a cupboard and returned. ‘Try these cherries! They are a little watery, because they are an early cultivar. The first cherries for this year!’

She somehow found space on the table to put a small cup full of red cherries. Eöl looked at her. She was so different from Irissë, golden-haired, pink-skinned, a little chubby, yet she was beautiful in her own way. She caught his look and smiled kindly, then went out of the room.

‘It seems you are gradually realizing that Irissë is not the only lady in the world,’ said Fëanor in a low voice. ‘But please don’t forget that Laurelote is just fulfilling her duty to welcome you and showing her innate goodness. And she is not free but a happily married mother of two, and her husband is Calarondo whom you saw – a veteran of the War of Wrath, strong, brave, and jealous.’

There was no malice in Fëanor’s voice, and he was slightly smiling. However, Eöl felt enraged, more at himself for being so transparent, but also at the kinslayer for mocking him. He bit his tongue, thinking how to erase the smile from Fëanor’s face. Meanwhile, Laurelote returned with some bright-colored yarn and three needles, sat down in front of a nearby window and started knitting.

‘Tell me how you killed your son,’ Eöl said. Fëanor’s smile disappeared, and his face strained. It seemed that he had loved his children after all, in his own way.

‘Eöl, please!’ Laurelote exclaimed. ‘Fëanáro doesn’t need to relive it, and this story is not for a newly returned like you!’

‘He promised me to tell me everything about his life,’ Eöl insisted. He was already regretting his request, but in his anger wanted to portray himself in the worst possible way in Laurelote’s eyes. Let him get hate at least, if he could not get love. ‘Did your son betray you, kinslayer? My son betrayed me, so I tried to kill him, but my wife stood in front of my javelin and she was killed instead. Never mind, she had also betrayed me. And my son did not prosper, either – I cursed him, and my curse came true. So they both were duly punished for their treachery. They had it coming, and I have no regrets. If I cannot have what is mine, nobody else can either. Are you scared of me now, Lady Glorloth?’

Laurelote shook her head. Instead of shock or disgust, there was only pity in her eyes, and this made Eöl feel even worse.

‘I know what you have done, Eöl. I hoped you had healed in Mandos. But Mandos is not that good for healing, whatever Lord Námo says.’

‘Our sons and former wives cannot betray us, because they don’t owe us a thing in the first place,’ Fëanor said. ‘I wish I had realized this earlier.’

‘For how long are you going to avoid the question?’ Eöl asked. ‘Well, if it will make you cry, forget it. I don’t really need the story. I just wanted to drag off your high horse.’

‘I did promise. And I think that after you requested this story, maybe you need it. So you will have it. As for me crying – who cares?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this fic, the first meal of the reembodied binds them firmly to life, like the pomegranate seeds Persephone ate while kidnapped by Hades bound her irrevocably to the underworld. This is why Fëanor treats Eöl so carefully at the beginning, and less so later.  
> Laurelote has suffered the Great Famine as a little girl, and has developed later a habit to eat too much, therefore is chubby – something quite rare for an elf.


	5. The worst thing that can happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feanor remembers how he unwittingly burned to death his son Amrod at Losgar. If you do not want to read about it, just skip this chapter!

‘I have seven sons,’ Fëanor started. ‘Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Curufin, Caranthir, Amras and Amrod. The last two are twins. They were quite young, barely of age, when the Darkening came. I rebelled, swore my Oath, and was glad that my sons joined me. Then I attacked Alqualondë to steal the ships, and sailed on them to Middle-earth with my people. We disembarked at a place called Losgar…’

He stopped for a moment, then continued:

‘To understand what happened, you must keep in mind that many youths at that time had poor vision in the dark. Nobody knew why, but it was known to improve with age. Because it affected many if not most, it was supposed to be a normal thing. Especially with the Valar insisting that everyone in Valinor was healthy and happy, and if he wasn’t, he alone was to blame. When I was young, I wanted to research such things – why children and young adults suffered from this deficiency of vision, why childbirth sometimes ended in disaster, in other words, how our bodies and spirits worked, why they sometimes didn’t work properly, and how they could be healed. But it came to nothing. I couldn’t study only myself, I needed also to do research on others, and people did not want to collaborate. Many found research of this sort creepy. I needed blood samples to study the composition of the body, but people were reluctant to supply even a drop of blood. I developed more sensitive approaches that could work with a tress of hair, though hair is far less suitable than blood. Then I found that I couldn’t get hair samples even from my own family members. I have a niece who is very proud of her gorgeous hair. She is stubborn, like all in our family, and at that time, she was still young and bratty. I asked her three times to give me a little hair, to no avail. This failure finally made me give up and turn to studying non-living matter, and this path led me to the creation of the Silmarils. Yeni later, long after my death, others found out that there was a key component of food that was important for vision, and it was often insufficient during growth. Today’s children consume extra milk, liver, carrots and red fruit, and can see well even in the dark. But when my sons were young, nobody had any idea about this…’

Fëanor stopped again and looked into Eöl’s eyes.

‘You are right, I am procrastinating. Well, no more. I promised to tell you the story. Maybe it is better to show it. Come with me to Losgar before the first sunrise, if you dare!’

He opened his mind so wide that Eöl was sucked inside.

Stars were flickering in the dark sky, and a cold wind was blowing. Eöl and Fëanor were standing at a beach, among a multitude of dark-haired Noldor. Numerous silhouettes of white swanships could be seen in the water, some obviously in need of repair, but all graciously beautiful. Many boxes and other luggage were lying around, hastily brought to land. Some of the Noldor were holding lamps emitting cold blue-white light, others were collecting driftwood and kindling fires. Eöl was surprised by their appearance. He had expected the kinslayers to be proud and triumphant after their victory at Alqualondë. Instead, they looked shocked, exhausted and frightened – especially the women, the children and the injured. Everyone had apparently not eaten properly for days, and their clothes were wet and stained with blood, vomit and dirt. They looked relieved to step on land again, but many were seeking and calling loved ones who were not answering.

As Fëanor was walking, captains approached him and reported the results of their roll-call. He was writing the numbers on some sheet. Occasionally he saw one or another of his sons, to his great joy.

‘We were traveling separately,’ explained the voice of today’s Fëanor. ‘We were unskilled sailors, and the Lords of the Sea were angry at us, so many of the ships sunk. I told my sons to embark on different ships, in a hope that at least some of us could make it. Only the twins Amras and Amrod insisted to stay together. They were inseparable.’

From the last group, a pale anxious lad with reddish hair and obvious resemblance to Fëanor came to speak.

‘But they were to be separated now,’ Fëanor continued. ‘Amrod, my youngest, was completely shaken by the Kinslaying. He was full of remorse, didn’t want to follow me anymore and wanted to return home to his mother. So he remained aboard, hid himself, and asked his twin brother Amras, whom you are seeing, to cover up for him. Amras told me that he had not seen his brother since leaving the ship, which, strictly speaking, was true. I sent a search party for Amrod, to no avail. I of course thought that he, dizzy with sea sickness, had fallen into the water as we disembarked, and had drowned himself. Many had died this way, already seeing the shore.’

Eöl felt that they had moved several hours forward in time. Most fires were just embers now, and it was colder. The children had stopped crying and were sleeping, curled in their mothers’ embraces. Some of the wounded were in deep sleep or unconscious, others were quietly moaning.

‘Overall, of every hundred people who had sailed, only seventy-two had arrived. More than a quarter had perished, not counting those who had died in the Kinslaying. And it was clear that some of those wounded at Alqualondë were about to die as well. I had hesitated whether to send the ships back to ferry the other Noldor or not; Amrod’s disappearance tipped the balance. I decided not to lose any more lives to the merciless sea – oh the irony! Not all were happy about my choice. My eldest son Maedhros openly objected, because his best friend had remained behind. To make sailing back impossible even if someone would want it, I ordered the ships to be burned. We shot fiery arrows at them…’

Eöl saw the arrows piercing the darkness like falling stars, and the beautiful ships catching fire, one by one.

‘Amras of course would confess the entire affair in order to save his brother, but he thought Amrod had already sailed. Because of his poor vision in the dark, he could not even see the fleet, so he had no idea that the ship with his brother inside was still near the shore. I personally shot at it, and burned it first. I hated it, because of Amrod’s death. But this death had not yet happened. I caused it myself. And it was horrible.’

A young voice screamed, then again and again. The heart-wrenching cries filled the night. The sea itself seemed to be on fire, clouds of black smoke obscured the stars. It felt like the end of the world. Then Eöl was pulled away, and found himself back in the present.

They were sitting in the inn, nobody was eating, and Laurelote’s needles were idle. Both she and Fëanor were weeping, and even Eöl felt tears falling from his eyes, presumably from the irritation that tormented the newly reembodied. Fëanor was the first to raise his hand and wipe his face.

‘This is the worst thing that can happen to a parent,’ he said. ‘To kill your own child. I never thought it could happen to me, but it did. While I was in Mandos, the Maiar once discussed who the worst parent in their care was. They are often bored and amuse themselves with such contests. Have you heard about this one? No? I won, of course, and you came second. The third prize went to Thingol of Doriath. But don’t you see, Eöl, that you are the luckiest bad father in Arda? You tried to kill your son in a moment of madness, but he survived. He died much later, and many contributed to his death, not only you. Maybe this was the true reason why you demanded this story. Because, like it or not, when we are troubled, a thought that can cheer us up is that others have had it even worse. At least, they are back – Amrod and the others.’

‘Is he well?’ Eöl asked.

‘No, he isn’t. None of my sons is well, they just carry on. Curufin and Caranthir are employed, so to say, and Maedhros has a partner, and that’s what is nice about their new lives. They are restricted to Tirion, and I to Formenos, so we cannot meet, even if they wished it. They could call but do not want to, and I cannot impose myself on them. Unless something extraordinary happens. My task to fetch you was such a gift to me.’

‘How so? What have I to do with your relationship with your sons?’

‘The person who is to meet a newly reembodied must prepare beforehand and collect information. I read what was written in the annals about your first life, then contacted people who knew you. I talked with Turgon, I called Irissë and Lómion… Do you wish to hear about them?’

Eöl silently nodded.

‘I actually saw them when Lómion was returned. Irissë was meeting him, but Námo summoned me to serve as a backup, because when someone like Lómion is released, things often go awry. But it all went smoothly, so I just sat quietly at another table over there without presenting myself to them. This was more than two decades ago. They are fairly well now. They live in Tirion, most of the time. Irissë has resumed her old friendships and made some new ones…’

‘I remember that she has a _friendship_ with your son Celegorm,’ Eöl hissed, stressing on “friendship”.

‘Yes, they were friends, and are again now. Am I to understand that you are jealous? There has never been anything romantic between them. They are close kin, half-first-cousins, and besides, Celegorm had a very intimate **friendship** with Lord Oromë, which he resumed after his reembodiment. I cannot say that it makes me very happy.’

Judging from Fëanor’s grim tone, this was the understatement of the yen. He continued:

‘Lómion has completed his apprenticeship with honors, and has set up his own workshop. He is very talented and hard-working, and people appreciate his work. It is sad that the people of fallen Gondolin still consider him a traitor, but nobody else cares what they think. They treated him badly while he was growing up, mostly because he was your son and his mother was not there to stand for him, so they thought he had betrayed them as a revenge…’

‘I… I was also told so… that he betrayed them, as he had betrayed me…’

‘Nonsense. Morgoth already had an idea where Gondolin was. A man named Hurin, who had once been there, approached it and called out to Turgon, unaware that Morgoth’s servants were listening. So the approximate location of Gondolin was revealed, and that’s how Lómion was captured as he was seeking ore outside the city walls. Morgoth extracted more precise information from him by torture. It is good that the Maiar of Mandos have not shown you those tapestries. I don’t think any of the pompous lords of Gondolin would have endured better in his place. To me, Lómion’s only mistake was that after Morgoth released him and sent him back, he was too terrified to tell anybody. Not that it would have made a difference. Turgon had already been warned to leave the city, by someone sent by Lord Ulmo himself, but he trusted his walls too much.’

‘So Maeglin has not betrayed Gondolin willingly?’

‘No, he hasn’t. Not one elf, ever, is known to have collaborated with Morgoth willingly. I mentioned the Alqualondëans before, but that had been unwitting and so should not be counted.’ 

Eöl said nothing, just tried to fight back his tears. He was terribly sorry for his boy, for leaving him an orphan and cursing him. He was saddened that Maeglin had been tortured, and at the same time glad that his treachery was not as unforgivable as some had said. Fëanor continued:

‘After your kin, I contacted your people from Nan Elmoth. They didn’t fare well after you left to seek Irissë and Lómion, and they suddenly found themselves without their lord.’

‘I expected to return soon. I didn’t plan to get murdered.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Fëanor and looked straight into Eöl’s eyes. Then he moved his gaze away and continued: ‘Anyway, they live in Tol Eressea now. Only three of them reached it by ship, the rest through Mandos. But they don’t blame you for anything. They rejoiced when they heard of your imminent release, and some wanted to move to Formenos immediately. I warned them that, by willingly coming to my domain, they would place themselves under the Doom. They indignantly assured me that they were not craven. A few wanted to pack and move immediately. I finally convinced them to give you a year to adapt. By the way, they told me many times to treat you well, adding thinly veiled threats what would happen if I don’t. They love you so much and are so loyal!’

Eöl remembered the people of Nan Elmoth and felt remorse for leaving them to fend for themselves in those hard times. And they still wanted him! But then the bitterness claimed his heart again, and he said:

‘Not that loyal. They did not stop Aredhel and Maeglin.’

‘Because they loved her as well, and knew that it was best for both of you to separate. She was ever more unhappy, and you were losing yourself. I remember Irissë in her younger days – spirited, stubborn, and free like the wind. Everyone would have seen from a mile that she was not a good match for you. And Lómion was longing to get out of your shadow and find his own path in life. I wish you had listened when my son Curufin advised you to let Irissë and Lómion be and go home. His manner is rude but his advice is sound. And he can recognize when someone is walking to his death. He happened to be in Nargothrond when King Finrod, fulfilling a stupid oath of his own, wanted to lead his people in a doomed unplanned attack on Angband to steal one of my Silmarils. Curufin with his brother Celegorm dissuaded most Nargothrondeans from this folly, so only ten followed their king into Mandos. It’s a pity that he could not dissuade you.’

Eöl remembered how this conversation had started, and asked:

‘So you were happy that you had to meet me, because you were obliged to inquire about me, and it gave you an occasion to visit your son?’

‘Exactly. I didn’t visit really, we talked through our palantirs. When I called Curufin and he saw it was me, he recoiled. But I explained what it was about, and he relaxed. He understood that it was my duty to ask him, because he was one of the last people to see you alive. I was so overwhelmed by feelings that I was not fit for any work for days, and still cannot concentrate properly. Nevertheless, I am very grateful that I saw and heard one of my sons. Maybe I won’t have another such occasion till the end of Arda.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrase in the chapter title is borrowed from John Updike's _Rabbit, Run_ , where a mother accidentally kills her baby.  
> I generally don’t buy the story in which Amrod is burned alive at Losgar, but I take it when it fits the plot, and here it does. The entire episode, however, is absurd as described in the Shibboleth. To me, Fëanor would never burn the ships without first making sure where his sons were. So I could either make Amras cover up for his twin in a more premeditated way by answering the roll-call twice, or make Fëanor believe that Amrod had already died. I preferred the latter version.  
>  On another level, the way the Oath is described in the Silmarillion, I don’t think any of those bound by it had a way to escape, even by suicide.  
>  The picture of sea-sick warriors falling into the sea as they disembark, and dying with the shore in sight, is unfortunately borrowed from real life – from a description of the Normandy Landing.  
>  I created a headcanon to put some logic into the famous incident with Fëanor asking for Galadriel’s hair.  
>  Fëanor’s interest in Hurin’s story is based on the similarity of their fates: both have fought Morgoth, for which their loved ones were cursed to a terrible fate. Many fanfiction writers have portrayed Fëanor in Mandos watching his sons’ doom unfold on Vaire’s tapestries, similarly to Hurin watching from the throne room of Morgoth. I find it amazing that in these two very similar cases, readers invariably blame the misfortunes of Hurin’s children on Morgoth, and the misfortunes of Fëanor’s children on Fëanor.  
>  To me, Fëanor’s brief account of the incident in Nargothrond, though obviously partial, is more accurate than the popular opinion based on canonical narrative bias.


	6. Bad parenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feanor tells about his childhood, interrupted by some local guards being nasty.

‘Let me tell my story from the beginning,’ Fëanor said. ‘Oh I know that you are not very interested in it, but you asked for full disclosure and I promised it, so you have to bear with me. When the Two Trees Laurelin and Telperion still radiated light, and Morgoth was imprisoned in Mandos, I was born as the eldest son of the Noldorin king Finwë. My mother Miriel was exhausted by the pregnancy and birth. She never recovered and went to Lorien for healing, but they could not help her, and her spirit departed to Mandos. This set me on the path to become the one I was.’

Eöl had started to feel some sympathy to the kinslayer, but didn’t like what seemed as an attempt by Fëanor to use his mother’s death as an excuse for what he had done as an adult.

‘This is very sad,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think it has doomed you. After all, you were not the only one to lose your mother.’

‘In Aman, I was. Or at least so they said. Today, I suspect that there may have been other cases among the smallfolk which have been covered up. But covering up a queen’s death was impossible. And the Valar felt embarrassed. They had claimed that these lands were undying, yet she had died, and they could not return her. So they blamed it all on me and her. They said that I had killed her, that I or she or we both were marred, touched by the Enemy, and so on. And the elves parroted this nonsense without giving it a thought. It was so in those days, everything said by a Vala was believed to be a holy truth and parroted. In fact, I was vilified as marred by the Enemy long after the Enemy himself had been pardoned. Back then, he was called Melkor.’

‘What nonsense!’ Eöl felt sincere indignation. ‘I’d rather think that your head was too big, or your mother had too narrow hips, or both. We have had three births in Nan Elmoth that ended with either the mother or the baby dying.’

‘I also suppose something of this sort, though I’ll never know for sure, because nobody made proper records. My mother survived the birth but it left her wrecked and she died soon after naming me. I barely remember her. So I remained motherless at the tender age when the mother is the child’s world. Such a child, deprived of so much, will spread his misery around, like a funnel sucking love and joy from others, and no matter how much he takes, it will never be enough. My father initially wished to give me enough love to bring me out of my unhappiness, but then gave up. Thinking of him now, he had good intentions but was unable to love or understand people properly, no matter how hard he tried. And he usually didn’t try that hard.’

Fëanor was looking straight into Eöl’s eyes as if probing the thoughts inside his mind. Eöl felt uncomfortable and decided to protest.

‘Why are you staring at me like this?’ he asked. ‘Are you talking about yourself or about me?’

‘I am talking about myself, but yes, I suspect that you may have a similar backstory. Your parents’ names are never mentioned, and a person rarely becomes as messed up without unfortunate circumstances in his early life… No, don’t talk!’ he said, as Eöl was angrily opening his mouth. ‘For some time, until you adapt, I advise you not to talk about your problems to people who have not sworn the Oath of Healers – and I haven’t. Forget what I have just said, maybe I shouldn’t have said it. So I grew up feeling like something useless and marred, and tried to excel in various fields to prove my value. And I excelled indeed; I apparently had a talent, and worked very hard. I studied under Lord Aule, and learned a lot from him and his servants…’

Laurelote suddenly jumped from her position by the window and looked outside.

‘They’re coming!’ she announced. She quickly came to their table, took Eöl’s cup and plate, brought new ones, poured herbal tea into the cup and placed a toast in the plate. Then she retreated behind the bar and started wiping it. Fëanor poked into his bag, brought out a palantir and some papers and made space to put them on the table. 

‘Keep your hands on the table where they can see them!’ he hissed. ‘Don’t talk unless asked, don’t look them into the eyes, and close your mind as best as you can!’ His own mind had slammed shut.

Three males dressed in green with silver ornaments came in. They looked like guards, and each of them carried a club fastened to his belt. They dismissively nodded at Lote. One of them, apparently the captain, came forward. 

‘Whose is the blue cart in the backyard?’ he asked. The language was unknown to Eöl yet vaguely recognizable.

‘The owner is the Domain of Formenos,’ Fëanor replied quietly, ‘and I am driving it.’

‘Why are you in control of a vehicle which is not your property, in violation of the Law of Vehicles?’

‘This is a vehicle needed for my work, a situation covered by paragraph seven of the law.’

‘Identify yourselves, both of you! And show me the papers of the cart.’

Fëanor handed him several paper sheets of varying sizes and colors.

‘Why are you outside your domain, my lord?’ the guard asked, pronouncing Fëanor’s title with apparent mockery. ‘Your presence here is trespassing.’

‘Because I was summoned by Lord Námo, sir. Here is the order.’

‘And where is your paper?’ This question was directed to Eöl, who made an effort to look even more confused than he really felt.

‘Eöl is a Sinda just released from Mandos. He does not speak our language, and of course he has no paper. I have it, and have already handed it to you,’ Fëanor explained. The guard looked at the documents in his hand and brought out the largest one.

‘And why is Eöl’s paper without a picture, and in your possession?’ he asked. ‘This violates the Law of Identity, and the paper is invalid.’

‘It would be, if Eöl were an ordinary citizen. However, he is newly released from Mandos, and according to the Law of Return, paragraph two, he is identified by such a paper without a picture valid for the journey to his destination, and handled by the person authorized to meet him. As I have just mentioned, I am this person.’

The guard looked back at Lote, who had finished wiping the bar and started wiping some dishes.

‘Laurelote, you are distracting us from our work. Haven’t you any chores to do elsewhere?’

‘I am sorry, captain, but I must wipe the dishes clean before everyone returns from the haymaking and wants to be served. And I am even behind with my work. You would not want your dinner to be placed in a dirty or wet dish, would you?’

Eöl suddenly realized that she had stopped knitting and had started another kind of work tied to the room so that she would have an excuse to stay. She wanted to be there as a witness, and the guards wanted no witnesses. He felt fear.

‘Why don’t you take it easy on my guests, captain?’ asked Lote. ‘Fëanáro is following Lord Námo’s orders, and Eöl has just been released after ages in Mandos.’

‘What a person are you to defend these kinslaying monsters? Fëanáro has caused your father’s death, and many others as well, and Eöl, if this is really him, has murdered his wife while attempting to murder his son.’

‘But Fëanáro didn’t mean to. As for Eöl, he was distraught by the breakdown of his marriage. The poor one wasn’t himself. It was almost an accident.’

‘And why is the table served as for a begetting day party?’ the guard asked, turning again to Fëanor. ‘This violates the Law of Return, paragraph seventeen. You are endangering the well-being of the person in your care.’

‘I am sorry, captain, but Eöl has been served just toasted bread and herbal tea, in full compliance with the Law of Return. Everything else on the table is for me. I need a good breakfast, because I have a long ride ahead.’

‘Don’t be so sure about that. Maybe you will remain here longer than you intend. So can you explain why you are driving a cart that is not your property?’

The guard asked the same questions as before, worded in a slightly different way. Fëanor answered politely, citing various laws and paragraphs and supporting his words with documents. However, the uniformed Vanya was impervious to anything said or shown to him. It seemed to Eöl that time was repeating itself, and they would forever stay locked in this cycle and never break out. Finally, the captain said in a cold voice:

‘Your attempts to distract and confuse me in order to escape the consequences of your numerous violations of the law are in vain. The truth is that you are in a territory where you have no right to be, you are driving a cart that is not your property, your companion has no valid document to identify himself, you possess a document in his name which is invalid, and if it is true that he is newly returned, you are endangering him. You both will come with me now to clarify the case. Stand up and hold out your hands!’

However, while he was still talking, Fëanor discreetly pressed something on the palantir. Suddenly the glassy surface shined in green, and a thunderous voice echoed:

‘Fëanáro!’

Eöl flinched. Though the voice was coming out of the palantir somewhat changed, it was still too familiar. If he never heard this voice again, it would be too soon.

‘Lord Námo, we have a problem!’ said Fëanor quickly. ‘Local guards are detaining Eöl and me on made-up charges.’

‘Are you still in the village?’ the Vala asked. ‘Who are these fools? Call them to have a word with me!’

‘Yes, we are at the Happy Meetings. And the fools are now leaving at a high speed after hearing you. Thank you very much, Lord Námo!’

‘Take care, Fëanáro! Farewell.’

The palantir became silent and dark again. The inn was also silent after the guards had ran out without any remnants of dignity, as if fleeing a fire. Fëanor opened his mind again and let out a string of words in his language. Eöl didn’t understand all of them, but apparently the equivalent of “fucking” was the most innocent. Lote was breathing heavily. She appeared relieved and impressed as she placed Eöl’s original cup and plate in front of him again. 

‘I knew that you had a connection with Mandos,’ she said to Fëanor, ‘but had no idea that it was with Lord Námo himself! Why did you drag it for so long? I would have called an hour ago!’

‘Thank you very much, Lote, for staying with us! I appreciate it. As for Námo, I hoped to resolve the situation without calling him. I hate asking Valar for help against fellow elves.’

‘But you had no other choice.’

‘It seemed so. That’s because Vanyarin lords never keep the guard in check. They just throw the complaints away.’

‘You are right, unfortunately. It’s no use writing complaints.’

‘I don’t intend to write any complaint.’

‘Excellent!’

‘This is what scribes are paid for. I just approve, sign and seal.’

‘Do you really wish to waste your and their precious time on this futile endeavor? Please don’t!’

‘I didn’t expect you, Lote, to defend these scoundrels! Will you give me a reason why I should not file a complaint?’

‘Because Valandil deserves a little slack. He is still new at this position, and is overzealous, and craves shiny carts too much, but I wish to give him a chance. And he’ll get a shaking from Námo anyway.’

‘And a well-deserved shaking it will be, though a little unfair, because the Valar set these customs in the first place. Valandil! I suppose this epesse is well-earned.’

‘It is not an epesse but his father-name.’

‘You mean that someone named his little treasure, of all names, Valandil?’

‘This is a standard name. It may be rare in your rebellious North, but is quite popular here.’

Fëanor rolled his eyes.

‘Well, Lote, you convinced me,’ he said. ‘I won’t complain this time. Valandil! Poor boy. Do you see, Eöl? Bad parenting is more widespread among elves than one would think. What happened to his predecessor? Not that I miss him.’

‘He was fired for imprisoning and beating a visitor who turned out to be King Ingwë’s second cousin once removed,’ Laurelote answered as she sat down to knit again. ‘And it was about time! Had they fired him earlier, maybe I’d still have my kids around…’ She saw Eöl flinching and explained: ‘Don’t worry, they are fine, just live far from here. They both love the land and wanted to be farmers, but the guards kept harassing them for no reason. My children tried to stand for themselves, to no avail, and finally gave up and moved to Valmar. They haven’t even a yard there, only flower-pots, because their home is in a tower. At least, Grandma and Grandpa – I mean my parents – are happy that the grandkids live nearby.’ She sighed. ‘We Vanyar are often portrayed as docile and stupid for tolerating such oppression, but fighting it from within is easier said than done.’

‘I have never thought the Vanyar docile and stupid,’ Fëanor said, ‘but when I was young, I viewed them as evil and cunning.’

‘Really?’ Lote asked surprised, then smiled and exclaimed: ‘Oh I understand! Your stepmother!’

‘Yes. I had a very sketchy and skewed impression of the Vanyar. I knew first-hand only one, Queen Indis, and found her one Vanya too many.’ He turned to Eöl. ‘Let you continue with your breakfast, and let me continue abusing your patience with my story.’

‘When I was born, the Vanyar had already settled in these lands, while the Noldor lived east of them, in and around the city of Tirion. However, at some earlier time, the two peoples lived together. Indis, a close relation of Ingwë, King of the Vanyar, fell in love with my father. Even his marriage did not stop her from pining after him. Then my mother died. My father grieved for her for some time, then grieved more for himself. He didn’t wish to be alone to the end of Arda, and he wanted more children, because I was apparently not enough for him. He saw Indis, liked her, and started to think that if his wife could not return to him, maybe he could take a new one. Indeed, the Valar had set Laws and Customs for us Eldar banning remarriage, because the marriage bond was allegedly forever, and nobody could be allowed to have two spouses. However, when my father presented his problem to them, they convened and decreed an exceptional decision. They told my mother’s spirit to either return immediately or agree to remain in Mandos till the end of Arda, so that my father could remarry and still have only one wife. Some Valar in fact said that it would be wrong, cruel to my mother and damaging to me. However, Námo pointed out the pros: Indis, who was now solitary, would be made glad and fruitful, and her children would be great and make Arda more glorious; and a descendant of her named Eärendil would bring light to Valinor. Lord Manwë said, ‘So be it!’ and so it was. My mother was doomed to stay dead and I motherless so that Indis, related to the Valar’s darling Ingwë, could be glad and fruitful, and her offspring could come into existence. Incidentally, when many a yen later the above mentioned Eärendil really set foot on the shores of Aman and brought light, Námo wanted him executed for being half-Noldo.’

‘Aredhel is of the descendants of Indis, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, she is daughter of Indis’ elder son Nolofinwë. Indis has four children: two sons, Nolofinwë and Arafinwë, and two daughters, Findis and Lalwen. And I hated them all. Every time I looked at them, I remembered that they were the reason why my mother was trapped in Mandos. This was of course quite unfair. My siblings were not at fault for having been born. Nor was their life easy. Having Indis for a mother was only slightly better than having no mother at all. My father was no credit as a parent, and to relieve his guilt to me for having put me in this situation, he was pretending to love me more than his younger children. They had to put up with a nasty older half-brother, that is, me. They could not vent their feelings, because they were always in the spotlight as royals. To cap it all, they had no outstanding talents, and everyone was comparing them unflatteringly to me. Today, I can imagine that it was hard for Nolofinwë to be burdened by his mother’s ambition, and at the same time to hear his tutors say things like that it was a shame for him to make so many spelling mistakes at an age when his elder brother Fëanáro was already improving the script. So were sown the seeds of the disastrous feud that would erupt later between Nolofinwë and me. But back in those days, I was totally unable to put myself in another person’s shoes. I wish I had developed this ability before I doomed my sons, presided over a Kinslaying, and left Nolofinwë’s people on the Ice.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ideas of freedom and individual rights never grew strong roots among Vanyar, so I’d expect their law enforcement to enjoy every opportunity of a power trip.  
>  As we see, Fëanor is still bitter about his father and Indis, and I think he has every right to be.


	7. Melkor in town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feanor recounts the events that brought him to Formenos the first time.

‘As I was growing up and learning crafts, life was becoming better and better,’ Fëanor continued. ‘I left home at the earliest opportunity, and so isolated myself from the sources of irritation. Aulë and his people were praising my work, giving me satisfaction and self-confidence...’

Eöl noted an inconsistency and immediately pointed it out:

‘Why was their praise so important for you? By your own account, Aulë was one of those who doomed your mother and deprived you of her.’

‘Yes, but my today’s self who gave you this account is very different from the youth I was. Today, I blame the Valar, my father and Indis, in this order. Back then, I blamed only Indis and her children. I excused my father, because no matter how bad he was as a father, I had only him and no one else. And I didn’t even think to accuse the Valar. In fact, the mere idea would have shocked me. To deny the infallibility of the Valar would be like denying that the earth was flat and the stars were revolving around it. The Valar were holy and good and blameless, they knew best and could do no wrong. This was what everyone thought and said, and I was brought up to believe it. So I believed also that my mother had died because I had been marred. Once, when Lord Aulë praised me, I asked about my marring, and he said that I had apparently overcome it. Now, I find this appalling, but at that time, I took it uncritically and was very happy.’ 

‘At about that time, I started apprenticeship under one of the best smiths among the Aulendurs, that is, Aulë’s servants. He had a daughter named Nerdanel, with whom I fell in love. As soon as I came of age, I proposed to her. She accepted, and we quietly got married. I was initially afraid how she would cope with pregnancy and birth, but she was very strong. She was a talented sculptor and smith, actually was a smith before I became one, and she continued working even after she gave birth to our seven sons. So, in addition to the satisfaction from my work, I had a family of my own to love and be loved by. Life was wonderful.’

‘There were indeed some small clouds on the bright sky. After so many years of kinging, my father was tired and wanted help from his sons. He first invited me, but I was poorly suited for the work. Council meetings were too boring to me, his advisors’ speeches seemed foolish, and everyone was wasting days on problems that could be solved in a heartbeat. Meanwhile, my other work, which I enjoyed and did well, was staying undone. So I started coming less and less to the palace, until I stopped altogether. Meanwhile, Nolofinwë came of age, and my father got him involved. Nolo enjoyed the council meetings and the endless discussions, and showed a gift for this work. I became jealous, my fear of being replaced reawakened, and I didn’t try to hide it or talk it out. It is telling that, when my father hesitated whether to send his third son Arafinwë to Alqualondë at such a young age to learn the ways of the Lindar, the quiet and gentle boy said that he would enjoy a respite far from this palace where his older brothers were constantly at each other’s throats. But even this turned out well, because Arafinwë met his love in Alqualondë. Nolofinwë was also happily married. Yes, life was wonderful and everything was fine. Until the Valar released Melkor.’

‘Why did they release him?’ Eöl asked.

‘Good question. They had promised him that after three ages of imprisonment in Mandos, he’d be given a chance of pardon. He feigned repentance and most of the Valar believed him. At least, this is what we were told, the official version. I would not actually say that they should have kept him in Mandos forever, because I did not like when they had the same idea about me. However, I think that upon his release, they should have settled him on Taniquetil or somewhere else on their territory. Instead… Eöl, have you had a pet in your first life?’

‘A pet? No, I haven’t,’ Eöl replied, wondering at the sudden change of subject.

‘You will have one now, because you will need company but are estranged from your former family. You will be offered a pet as soon as you seem recovered enough to avoid accidentally killing it by locking it outside or forgetting to feed it. I recommend you a dog. It will give you the unconditional love and loyalty that you need, and will add structure to your daily life because you will have to walk it. In a word, it will be an important part of your recovery plan. This is what the Valar intended us to be for Melkor.’

‘I think you are exaggerating a little,’ Lote intervened.

‘Well, let’s think about it. Melkor had hurt elves, not Valar. He had hunted and captured elves to imprison them and use them to produce orcs. Our parents’ generation that had travelled from Cuivienen told horror stories about him. And now, the Valar, who – let me repeat it – had not been hurt by him, found it a good idea to let him loose upon the elves, his victims. And so they did, without consulting the elves, just because Melkor wanted it. Am I wrong to think that the Valar found his wishes and whims more important than our safety and well-being? At first, Melkor was confined within Valmar. This annoyed the Vanyar immensely, but at least he was under some supervision. Then, satisfied with his behavior, the Valar allowed him to go anywhere he wanted. So he came to our city of Tirion.’

‘What did he do there?’ Eöl asked.

‘He walked around, watched and listened, and imposed himself upon one or another Noldo with unsolicited talk or advice. He was quite a nuisance, seemingly able to be simultaneously everywhere. And of all residents of Tirion, he clearly preferred to harass me. I made it clear many times that I did not want his company, to no avail. Nothing could keep him away. When I complained to others, they berated me for questioning Manwë’s wisdom and benevolence. They told me that because the Valar had decided to release Melkor and let him inside Tirion, I was obliged to tolerate him and listen to him. They added that I could learn useful things from him. These were the same people who had stigmatized me as marred by Melkor and carrying his darkness when I was still a child walking upright under the table.’

‘The new experience was an eye-opener to me. I suddenly saw everything in a different light. For example, my son Celegorm was a hunter in the train of Lord Oromë, who had given him an excellent dog named Huan. I had considered this an honor. Now, it seemed to me that the relationship between Oromë and Celegorm was the same as that between Celegorm and Huan. We were little more than pets of the Valar. My mother had been trapped in Mandos by a whim of powerful beings for whom her life had been unimportant to begin with. It seemed to me that a shining layer of polish that had covered the world was flaking, and more and more of the true ugly surface beneath could be seen.’ 

‘As a matter of fact, Melkor offered a solution to my problem. He talked about the vast expanses of Middle-earth where the elves could live free. He also pointed out that anyone wishing to relocate had to do it quickly, before the Valar would take measures to prevent our departure. Moreover, the Men would soon awaken in Middle-earth and take it over for themselves. The Valar had not bothered to tell us about the Men; it was from Melkor that we first heard about them, but when I asked Lord Aulë, he did not deny it. Most of Melkor’s so-called lies were actually pure truths, said with malicious intent.’

‘That’s why I wish you had never given an ear to him,’ Lote remarked.

‘But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have created the Silmarils, and the light of the Two Trees would have been lost without any hope of recovery. I thought that the idea of returning to Middle-earth made sense regardless of its source. My people had come to Valinor to be free of Melkor and to enjoy abundant light. Melkor was now in Valinor, pushed by the other Valar down our throats, so those who didn’t want him had to move back to Middle-earth to escape him. What about the light? I didn’t wish to live in a world lit only by stars and fires. I had already studied extensively the nature of light and the processes producing it. In fact, all sources of artificial light more sophisticated than torches and candles have been invented by me, at least in their prototype form. So I thought of capturing the light of the Two Trees in a portable light source radiant enough to power plant growth.’

‘Melkor later claimed to have helped me with the creation of the Silmarils. I’ll tell you how he “helped” me so you can judge for yourself. Once I was writing in my diary to put my ideas in order. I was sitting in front of a window to use the light coming through it, as Lote is doing now. I had figured out that the structure of the Silmarils had to be of the highest order possible, and thought about using as a pattern the most highly ordered object known to exist, that is, the mind. Suddenly, I heard some noise coming from the window, and turned to see Melkor’s snout peeking…’

Fëanor showed the memory: silver light behind an open window, and on its background, a protruding head in the image of an elf but much bigger and somehow menacing.

‘That’s creepy!’ Eöl exclaimed.

‘This is the Enemy for you, while he still pretended to be good and reformed. Congratulations for sensing his creepiness! Our best scholars failed to see it. Indeed, they had been conditioned by their long exposure to the other Valar. So Melkor suggested to me to utilize for the creation of the Silmarils the mind of the Vanyarin slut Indis, her sneaky son Nolofinwë or any of his good-for-nothing siblings. I shut my diary and told him to leave me alone. He went away, but was back the next morning. There was no escape of him except when he took time to harass other Noldor. So I worked hard in every Melkor-free hour that I could get, and created the Silmarils.’

‘Why did you make them three?’ Eöl asked, then added, ‘Of course, if you don’t mind to tell.’

‘I wanted a powerful light source, so I prepared a relatively large mass. Then I figured out that it would overheat and become unstable, with a potential to create unimaginable disaster. Or at best, it would shine too bright and be exhausted much sooner than it could otherwise. So I split the light-producing mass into three and enclosed each one in transparent material called silima. You’ll learn more about it during your apprenticeship.’

Eöl jumped from his chair.

‘Why should I become an apprentice?’ he asked indignantly. ‘I was an accomplished smith, the best among my people!’

‘So was I. Doesn’t matter. The law is the same for everyone.’

‘Do you mean that you also became an apprentice after your return?’

‘Yes, I did. I was lucky – one of those who came with me to repopulate Formenos was a licensed smith who had the right to teach apprentices. See, this particular law makes sense. Crafts do not stand still while we rot in Mandos. They develop, so when we are finally released, there are advances we know nothing about. For example, you don’t know about the protective field at the gate of Mandos, and most of today’s machines and devices use it. If you work without knowing it, not only will you be greatly limited in your ability to create, but your ignorance will put you and others in danger. The standard duration of an apprenticeship is ten years, and if you are a fast learner, you can complete it in less time.’

Eöl sighed. Apparently, there was no way to escape this, if Fëanor himself had been put through it. Fëanor continued:

‘I initially carried the Silmarils around at festivals for everyone to see. I was proud of my work and liked showing it, and more importantly, there were other Noldor besides me who were already thinking of return to Middle-earth, and I wished them to know that we had a light source. Then Lady Varda summoned me to bring the Silmarils so that she would hallow them. This disturbed me because it implied a claim on my work. Yet I obeyed, because I was not yet ready to say no to a Vala. She hallowed the Silmarils so that “nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them”. I was worried, because at that point I no longer trusted the Valar’s judgement about good and evil. I could easily imagine them proclaiming me evil and making me unable to touch my own Silmarils. I locked the gems and no longer carried them around. To my dismay, many blamed me for being covetous. Until then, I had happily shared and given away all my inventions. I didn’t need to sell anything, because as a prince I lived in luxury anyway. What I had wanted was validation and admiration, and I received it initially. However, as time passed, everyone began to feel entitled to my work, and my wish to keep some of it to myself angered many. They were regarding me as a resource, not as a person.’

‘At about that time, Melkor talked about the importance of weapons. I listened to him and started forging swords, thinking that they could come handy in Middle-earth. I was already openly talking against the Valar and stating that I would return to Middle-earth to live free with all who would follow me.’

‘This is when my wife Nerdanel left me. As I mentioned, she was coming from a family of Aulendurs. For them, Lord Aulë and the other Valar came first, and everyone and everything else a distand second. This had been no problem for our marriage while I had been a fellow Valar worshipper, but as soon as I turned against the Valar, she turned against me. Aulë himself advised her so, saying that my rebellion would bring death to me and all of our children. I loved her very much, and our separation was a devastating blow to me. I felt that my entire world was crumbling.’

‘Did you try to make her return to you?’ Eöl asked.

‘I tried to explain to her what I wanted and why, to no avail. She wouldn’t accept anything short of me repenting of my rebellious views and crawling in her feet to ask forgiveness. But I wouldn’t renounce my newly found longing for freedom. It would have been tantamount to renouncing myself. On the other hand, I couldn’t be truly myself without Nerdanel, either. She was my love, my support, the pillar of my life.’

‘So you just left her walk away from you?’

‘Do you mean I should have kept her by force? Absurd! We have a saying: If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they’re yours; if they don’t, they never were. I have sometimes even wondered whether Nerdanel has ever truly loved me. But it seems unlikely that a wife would have seven children with a husband she does not love. The problem was that I had changed and was no longer the one she had loved and married. This is one of the flaws of marriage as the Valar had postulated it: even if the two spouses are a perfect match in the beginning – and, as you know, it is not always so, – they may become mismatched later because elves change over time, and there is no guarantee that the two will change in the same direction. Today, an abandoned spouse will seek a healer to cope better with the pain. Back then, it was unthinkable. Any elf in need of healing of the spirit was sent to Lorien, where Maiar healers would try and fix him by essentially replacing the sick spirit with a version of it that would be docile and unthinkingly happy, the Ainur’s idea about what the children of Eru must be.’

‘Meanwhile, Melkor was working also on my brothers, who were his second favorite target. He repeated to them that I did not love them, which they already knew well, and in addition lied to them that I allegedly wanted to expel them from Tirion. At the same time, Melkor whispered to me that Nolofinwë and Arafinwë were power-hungry and wanted to supplant me. Oh he knew well how to use any weak spot of his victims, and the deep division in the Noldorin king’s family was very welcome to him. Arafinwë’s thoughts were miles away from any power struggle and therefore Melkor never had success with him. But his elder brother was another matter. Not that Nolofinwë was power-hungry – contrary to Melkor’s statements and the opinion of some of my supporters, he wasn’t. If he were, he’d try his best to get rid of me by encouraging me to go to Middle-earth. However, in this case some would follow me, and Nolofinwë did not want them to suffer because of my folly. He apparently saw me as the greatest danger to our people, and thought that his mission in life was to save the Noldor from me. I think these ideas did not come from his own mind and not even from his mother Indis but from Melkor, the source of pure evil.’

‘So one wonderful morning Melkor came to me and resumed his habitual talking against my brothers. I had of course noted the increasing enmity of Nolofinwë but did not want to admit to the fallen Vala my problems with fellow elves. So I said that I didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. Melkor then informed me that my father had called his council that very morning to discuss me, so I could go there and see first-hand. He added that if he were me, he’d take measures for self-defense. And he succeeded to get under my skin! I should have figured out that Nolofinwë would not attack me physically, this was not his style. But instead of thinking straight, I equipped myself as for a battle, sword in place, and went to my father’s palace. Doesn’t sound like a recipe for disaster at all, does it? And let’s not forget that I was still so shaken by the collapse of my marriage that I could not be trusted with sharp objects.’

Eöl remembered the wonderful morning when he, shaken by the collapse of his marriage, left his home with a sharp object hidden under his cloak, never to return. He said nothing and raised his cup to his lips, more to hide his face than to drink. Fëanor continued:

‘I entered the hall just in time to hear Nolofinwë saying that I was called the Spirit of Fire all too truly, and appealing to our father to restrain me. He also pointed out that my father had two sons who honored his decision to bring the Noldor to Valinor, meaning himself and Arafinwë. Hearing this, I drew my sword to Nolofinwë’s chest. I threatened him that if he tried once more to usurp my place and my father’s love, I would rid the Noldor of him. Happily, he had the sense to depart in silence. I fear to think what I could have done if he had tried to resist or even just rebut me.’

‘My father, after reassuring Nolofinwë, told me that I should see how wrong I had been and apologize. But he was not very convincing. In essence, he was telling me to trust Nolofinwë and his true brotherly love, rather than my lying ears. I was outraged by Nolo’s suggestion that I should be restrained and dispossessed over my opinions, and I told my father as much. At the same time, however, the wrongness of threatening an unarmed person with a deadly weapon over an opinion somehow escaped my notion. You see, Nerdanel’s departure and the long-lasting poisonous influence of Melkor had made me regress into the bitter, love-starved boy that I had been. I saw the world once again as revolving around me, like children do, but they normally grow out of this phase by the time they turn fifteen.’ 

‘Before my father had found any solution, the Valar intervened and put me to trial. From their questions, which I was ordered to answer, I inferred they were more concerned with my opposition to them than with the sword incident. My testimony, as well as that of Nolofinwë and numerous witnesses, revealed the role of Melkor. Before the trial was over, Lord Tulkas left it to find and bring Melkor, but the latter had disappeared. I was sentenced to twelve years of exile from Tirion, a term which could be prolonged at Nolofinwë’s request. Nolofinwë promptly said he was forgiving me, and I left Tirion with my sons.’ 

‘We went to the northernmost regions of Valinor inhabited by just a few hunters and fishermen, and built there the fortress of Formenos. To everyone’s surprise, my father joined us, saying that as long as I was exiled, he was considering himself unkinged. This was his way to protest against the heavy-handed intervention of the Valar that reduced his word and will to nought. Also, he wanted to give me his love and support so that I would not rely solely on my children. At the same time, he showed his love and trust to Nolofinwë by leaving him to rule over the Noldor in the meantime. Nerdanel had not come to my trial and did not come to Formenos. Indeed, she had commissions in Tirion and nobody would expect her to abandon her work entirely, but we hoped that she would visit from time to time.’

‘Instead of Nerdanel, Melkor paid me a visit. He came out of nowhere and offered to help me leave Valinor. I felt so downtrodden that for a moment even considered accepting. But as he was saying that the Valar wanted my Silmarils, I realized that he wanted them as well. I told him to go away and slammed the door in his face.’

‘You kicked out Morgoth and he ran away?’

‘Yes, and I thought we had seen the last of him. How naïve I was. In fact, he was only temporarily retreating to avoid capture by the Valar. My father figured this out and immediately sent messengers to inform Lord Manwë of the incident. He hoped that the Valar would put guard around Formenos to protect us against future attacks, but they never did. To this day, I wonder what they were thinking. They would hardly care about our lives, because they regarded us all as traitors, but the Silmarils were another matter. Námo had already prophesied, at the same time when Varda hallowed them, that the fate of Arda, earth, sea, and air, was locked within these gems. And everyone knew that I had brought them to Formenos.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fëanor is often portrayed as covetously keeping his work to himself. In fact, as far as I know, this is true only as far as the Silmarils are concerned. His other inventions that we know about are widely used: seven palantirs eventually found their way to Numenor and beyond, and we see Fëanorian lamps in the hands of non-Fëanorian elves. Actually, some of his inventions such as the palantirs and the Tengwar script make sense only if shared.  
> In the Silmarillion, it is said that the Noldor had no idea that the “lies” (in fact, mostly inconvenient truths) circulating among them had originated from Melkor. However, this would make it inexplicable how the Valar figured this out during Fëanor’s trial. So I suppose that at least a few top targets, including Fëanor himself, would have heard the “lies” from their primary source.  
> Most readers commenting the sword incident curiously gloss over Nolofinwë’s words that triggered it.  
> About the security of Formenos: to be fair, while the Valar did nothing to protect Formenos specifically, they had put guard along their northern border to stop and apprehend Melkor, who was expected to attack from the north, and so to protect all Valinor, including Formenos. In fact, Melkor attacked from the south, and the guard failed to stop his escape after he stole the Silmarils.


	8. Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feanor's story from the Darkening to his death.

Fëanor continued his story:

‘Every year, there was – and still is – a festival in which the first fruit was offered to Eru, and the Valar celebrated it on Mount Taniquetil. Five years after I was sentenced to exile, Lord Manwë decided to make the feast grander than usual, to cheer up the spirits of both the elves and the Ainur, and to make the princes of the Noldor reconcile. For the sake of this reconciliation, I was ordered to attend. I did attend, and did not voice any protest, but nevertheless there were judgmental comments on my plain clothing, my lack of jewelry, the absence of the Silmarils, and the fact that I had come alone, without my father or anyone else from Formenos. The Valar of those days not only forced their will on us, but required us to show how happy and grateful we were, and held it against us if we didn’t.’

‘Nolofinwë and I were called in front of Manwë’s throne to reconcile. Nolofinwë said that he had forgiven me as he had promised, he was my half-brother in blood but full brother in heart, and I would lead and he would follow. I felt that he was too cautious, and not sincere. This was something new, because Nolo had never been a coward, and while he would talk behind my back, it was quite another thing to lie to my face. I supposed that he had been pressed by our father, the Valar, or both. I took his outstretched hand and said, “So be it”, to get it over with. The entire scene was highly unpleasant and embarassing. Did anyone really think that a true reconciliation could be forced this way?’ 

‘At that very moment, as the rays of the Two Trees were mingling, their light suddenly faded, and darkness fell upon the land. Manwë said that this was a deed of Melkor. Some of the present Valar and Maiar rode out to chase him. The others went down to the mound of Ezellohar where the Two Trees stood, and we followed them. But the Trees were black and cold now, a gruesome sight to behold under the pale starlight. As we would learn later, Melkor had brought Ungoliant, a spider-shaped giant monster lurking at the desert southern edge of Aman, to suck the light from them and cool them down to a point where all processes inside them would stop. Lady Yavanna tried to kindle them again, unsuccessfully. Meanwhile, the Valar who had gone after Melkor returned from their pursuit, which had also ended without success. They reported that Melkor had escaped through the northern border of Valinor.’

‘Yavanna said that she could never create new light-emitting trees, but she could revive the Two if she had a little of their light – now preserved only in my Silmarils – to reignite them before their roots had dried out. She was not speaking directly to me, but as soon as she finished, Manwë himself asked me whether I would grant her request.’

‘I thought over it. Today, I’d try to negotiate, but the thought didn’t come to me then. I was seeing only two possible answers, yes or no, everything or nothing. The obvious one was yes. Everyone needed light, and we had just lost our major light source which was the basis of our life. But on the other hand, the pressure to sacrifice the Silmarils was coming from the Valar, whom I could not trust, to put it mildly. Breaking the Silmarils would break me as well, because I had invested too much of myself into them. Worse, Middle-earth would remain as dark as before, and those who would migrate there would have no light sources other than stars and fires. And Melkor could come and destroy the Trees again, as he had just done, and as he had destroyed the Two Lamps in ancient times. Maybe it was better for me to say no and take the Silmarils to Middle-earth, letting the Valar provide light for Valinor as they could. After all, finding and preserving major light sources was the job of the Valar, not of any child of Eru. But then, I thought again of the fate of Valinor – which was my homeland after all, even if I wanted to leave it now; I thought of its people, and how they would survive until the Valar, with their ever-growing incompetence, would produce some light again. What a dilemma!’

‘As I was deliberating, Tulkas lost patience and told me to say yes or no, and rhetorically asked who would deny Yavanna, and did not the light of the Silmarils come from her work at the beginning?’ Aule told him to leave me alone for a while, because they were asking for a great thing. These were wise and kind words, but they were meaningless, coming from the one who had wrecked my family. More important were the words of Tulkas. He had actually said that the Silmarils were not truly my creations because the light inside them had come from Yavanna’s Two Trees. As a statement, this was of course blatantly wrong. It would be akin to saying that everyone who composes a poem or a treatise and writes it down should acknowledge Rumil as a co-author because Rumil has invented the script. Nevertheless, what was coming from the mouths of the Valar was regarded as true by definition, so I realized that my authorship of the Silmarils would be downplayed. If I gave my creations to be broken, I’d not only be broken together with them, I’d be forgotten as well. This thought swept away all other considerations, and I decided. I wish I could say that the subconscious reasoning, which today’s scholars praise so much, made me realize that the correct answer was “no”. However, the truth was that I was not driven by any reasoning, conscious or subconscious, but by the feelings of my deepest self, a lonely child curled in desperation and terrified that he would be erased.’

‘I cried that breaking the Silmarils would break my heart, and I would be slain, first of all the Eldar in Aman. Námo said, “Not the first,” a remark which I did not understand. Then I said that I would not do this of free will, and if the Valar would force me, I’d know indeed that Melkor was of their kindred. In fact, I wouldn’t have been able to give the Silmarils even if I had agreed to it, because they were no longer available. Not long after I spoke, my sons rode in. They said that Melkor had invaded Formenos, killed my father and stolen the Silmarils. I rose and called Melkor Morgoth, a well-deserved name, and I cursed Manwë’s summon which had prevented me to stand by my father and protect him. Then I ran away, because I was feeling beset in a ring of enemies and wanted to be alone. I didn’t want anyone to see me weeping, and I was afraid what I could say or do in my anger; for I realized that by “not the first” Námo had meant that I’d be the second after my father. He knew about the murder and nevertheless kept silence as I was being pressured by the other Valar to surrender the Silmarils.’

‘But your father could return from Mandos, couldn’t he?’ Eöl wondered.

‘He actually couldn’t, because he agreed to stay in Mandos till the end of Arda so that my mother could regain the chance to return. My mother was reembodied and, though she never felt strong enough to return to her kin, she weaved tapestries together with Lady Vaire and felt better than as a naked spirit. So my father renounced his chance to live in order to give my mother such a chance and amend his mistake. I suppose that you understand why he was loved despite the giant mess he had created. His decision allowed him to preserve his dignity, for Námo was going to keep him for very long anyway because of his support to me. At the time, we knew nothing of this development, but we didn’t really believe in reembodiment, because we hadn’t seen anyone to be released from Mandos – except, of course, Morgoth.’

‘As you know, the Valar eventually managed to extract from the Two Trees enough active substance to create the Sun and the Moon. So it turned out that there was no real need to break me. Nevertheless, the story is still often told as an example of my extreme selfishness, rather than as a proof that the Valar did not value our lives. They had a problem, and the first solution that came to their minds was one that required the destruction of an elf, and they wanted to apply it immediately, though some thinking and work later produced an alternative solution. I do not blame Lady Yavanna, because she is at least honest and consistent. She hates all children of Eru because we kill her creations and take space away from them. But the other Valar were of the same opinion.’

‘Meanwhile, I considered the situation. After my father’s death, I was in charge of the Noldor in this darkened world. The only good thing was that the Valar, shocked and very busy, were less likely to stop our bid for freedom than they would be at any other time. The moment to leave Aman was now or never. I defied my sentence of exile and went to Tirion where the Noldor had already returned. I proclaimed myself king and urged my people to flee Valinor and return to Middle-earth to fight Morgoth, avenge their slain king, regain the Silmarils and live in freedom. And I swore my infamous Oath to Eru himself to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature, who would take or keep a Silmaril from me and my kin; and I called the Everlasting Darkness upon myself if I failed to fulfill the Oath. In fact, I didn’t find it possible that any elf would even think to take or keep a Silmaril, because so far it had been only the Valar – all of them, and no one else, – who had wanted the Silmarils; but I didn’t dare to direct the Oath against the Valar alone.’

‘Why did you need to swear it?’ Eöl asked.

‘To strengthen my heart. I was embarking on an incredibly difficult task – to uproot my people, bring them across the Sea, and defeat the strongest Vala. The Silmarils were in his possession, and we needed to regain them to have light. But to be honest, I also wanted the Silmarils back because I didn’t feel whole without them, and the mere thought of them in the hands of Morgoth was maddening. But I didn’t think of the possibility of losing my sons, and that I’d feel even less whole without them. So I made the great mistake to allow my sons to swear the Oath. I was even glad that I had their support. What an irony that I called upon the Noldor to seek and find freedom, while binding myself and my sons to an unbreakable Oath. I died soon thereafter, and watched from Mandos as the Oath continued to warp and ruin the lives of my six surviving sons. Indeed, Maedhros and Maglor eventually cast two of the three Silmarils into the elements and out of reach of the Valar, saving the light of Arda. But this is little comfort in the nights when sleep does not come. Then I wish that my sons had remained free and whole, and Arda could very well go fuck herself.’

Eöl thought of Maeglin. Was someone like him who had ruined the life of his only son less awful a father than one who had ruined the lives of his seven sons? Fëanor had undoubtedly created more misery. On the other hand, both had ruined all of their children. It was hardly a merit that Eöl hadn’t had more children to begin with. Fëanor continued:

‘Nolofinwë promptly spoke against me, and once again wrath came near to the edge of swords. So much about being my full brother in heart and following where I would lead. With our father dead and the Valar out of earshot, he didn’t need to pretend anymore. When Father had left him to rule the Noldor during our exile, he had earned the love of most people in Tirion. He had proved himself able to do the job and wasn’t ready to give it up now. My words had made nine out of ten Noldor want to depart, but nevertheless they refused to renounce Nolofinwë if he would go with them. So our people set forth divided, with me and my following in the van, and a greater host coming behind under Nolofinwë. By the way, in the greatest Mannish kingdom of the Third Age, when the king was away, the rule was entrusted to a person specifically chosen not to be of the royal line, to prevent situations like this one.’

‘You mean the Stewards of Gondor?’ asked Lote. For one who had never set foot in Middle-earth, she was remarkably well-informed about its history.

‘Yes. Thinking of it now, I should have called Nolo to talk and reach some solution. If he was going to claim leadership at all costs, with the support of most Noldor, maybe I should have let him. But at that time, I was not ready to step down.’ 

‘As my host was leaving Tirion, a messenger came at last from Manwë. He didn’t offer condolences for our king’s death, didn’t express regret for letting Melkor loose, and didn’t promise any help. Instead, he talked against me and my folly, and advised the Noldor not to go forth, saying that the Valar would lend no aid in this quest. However, he promised that they would not hinder us, either, for as we had come freely to Valinor, we could freely depart. This was what I wanted from them, so I was relieved, because I believed their promise. After everything that had already happened, I was still too naive.’

‘Are you saying that the Valar lie?’ asked Eöl. This sounded too extreme even for Fëanor.

‘It’s complicated. They will not lie directly, this is one of the very few qualities that make them not quite as bad as Morgoth…’

‘I think you are exaggerating, Fëanáro!’ Lote intervened. ‘You are right to be angry at the Valar, and they are far from perfect, but I disagree that they are just a little better than Morgoth! They treated the Noldor awfully, but eventually let them return. Morgoth would have killed them off to the last elf, and permanently.’

‘I think you are comparing carts and boats, Lote. We were Morgoth’s enemies, we returned to Middle-earth to fight him. But we never thought of fighting the other Valar. All I wanted from them was to let my people go. And for this, they doomed my people and got them slaughtered. Indeed, a few survived to the War of Wrath, and the others were allowed to return later, damaged. But to see how the Valar would treat children of Eru opposing them, you must look at Numenor rather than the Noldor. What happened when the army of Numenor attacked the Valar? They let their most steadfast worshippers leave the island and then called to Eru to drown the rest, children and all. I don’t think Morgoth would have reacted much differently.’

Lote stopped knitting and widened her eyes. Her face became pale. After a short silence, she whispered:

‘You are right. And I hate when you are right in these matters!’

‘Throughout the First Age, the Valar regarded Morgoth as an unimportant problem and us as an important problem, and they cursed and doomed us but not him, and didn’t attack him until he had dealt with us. And even when they finally threw Morgoth into the Void, they somehow left Sauron free, and he dealt with the last elves of Middle-earth.’

‘But let me continue. At first, I led the host north, hoping that we could catch up with Morgoth. But it was too late. He had apparently fled to Middle-earth, and we had to seek him there. From the cold deserted shores of Araman, the region north of Aman, we could see the route he had taken across the Grinding Ice. But I did not want to take that route. It was too perilous, if it was passable at all. We needed ships. So I led my people back to the only place having ships, the city of Alqualondë ruled by King Olwë.'

‘The people of Alqualondë were considered friends of the Noldor. They had come to Aman last, so they presumably didn’t like or trust the Valar very much. My father, who had been Olwë’s personal friend, had petitioned them to come to Valinor. After they had agreed, he had helped them build their haven and city, starting shortly before my birth. In my early youth, I had worked at these constructions in their final stage. This had actually been my first serious job. And I was so naïve and silly that, after all that work in the city, I still knew nothing of its culture, let alone of the nature of Olwë’s rule. So I went to Alqualondë and spoke there as I had spoken before in Tirion. Were I slightly less ignorant, I’d have figured out that it was unthinkable for Olwë to help us leave when he did not let his own subjects leave his lands. A few of them had got a special permission, mostly ladies married elsewhere and traders whose job required a residence in another place. But generally Olwë, like the Valar, thought that those weaker than him had to stay where they were put.’

‘The Lindar all looked at their king, awaiting his decision. He had already made up his mind. He said that no ship would he lend, nor sell, nor help in the building, against the will of the Valar. He then became arrogant and said that he had never lent ear to Morgoth, nor welcomed him to his land, as if it was somehow our fault that the Valar had released Morgoth and told us to accept him. I grew wrathful, for in those days I had, as we say, a short fuse. I told Olwë that his people had come to these shores fainthearted and empty-handed loiterers, and would still be dwelling in huts without our help, and now he was renouncing our friendship in the hour of our need. He replied that it was the part of a friend to rebuke a friend's folly, and that the ships were to his people what the gems were to the Noldor, the work of their hearts.’

‘I left him and sat beyond the walls of Alqualondë to think what to do and how to deal with the new blow of fate. The Valar had transported my parents' generation safely and comfortably on a moving island. They were of course not going to move the island back for our sake, and because we could not swim to Middle-earth, it was the Ice or ships. Yet the Valar, while telling us that we were free to leave, had at the same time hinted to the Lindar, the only people who owned ships and shipyards, not to help us. But I was not going to return my people to the cage, nor would I lead them across the Ice so that our treacherous so-called friends could keep their precious ships. I decided to take the ships by force. I even thought that maybe Olwë and his people wouldn’t object much, because they could then truthfully tell the Valar that they had not helped us. So, when my host was assembled, I went to the haven and began to man the anchored ships. But there were Lindar who withstood us and cast many of my people into the sea to drown. We drew our swords, and the Lindar started to shoot with hunting bows. Many were slain upon both sides, until the foremost of the host of Nolofinwë came, led by his son Fingon, and saved us. To this day, I sometimes wonder what I should have done to avoid the Kinslaying. Maybe I should have attacked the haven immediately, instead of pleading to deaf ears while the defenders were taking positions and preparing their bows. Or, on the contrary, I should have waited until both hosts had assembled, and talk to individual captains, hoping to convince at least a few. Anyway, such thoughts are pointless, for it happened, and the past is written in stone. It is scary to think how quickly and easily it happened, without anyone really intending it. The white stones of the haven were stained dark with blood, and even the seawater had turned darker. We took our injured, leaving the bodies of the dead behind.’

‘As we rowed the ships north along the coast, Uinen wept for the slain mariners, and the sea rose in wrath against us, so that many of the ships were wrecked and those in them drowned. When the storm was passed and we continued, some by ship and some by land, we saw Námo standing high upon a rock that looked down upon the shore. We all halted and stood still, and from end to end of our hosts his voice was heard speaking the curse and prophecy which is called the Doom of the Noldor. It was chilling, and I had to collect all my strength to say that we would go on, and to do so. My youngest brother Arafinwë forsook the march and turned back with some of his people. He had actually never wanted to depart, and had followed the host with the sole intention to talk his children out of the enterprise.’

‘When we approached the Helcaraxë, where the distance between Araman and Middle-earth was shortest, we finally had to make the passage. But the ships were too few, and none were willing to wait on the western coast while others were ferried first. I decided to seize all the ships and depart suddenly, for we had retained the mastery of the fleet since the Kinslaying, and it was manned only by those who had fought there and were bound to me. There sprang up a wind from the north-west, and I slipped away secretly with all whom I deemed true to me; and put out to sea, and soon set foot once again on the shores of Middle-earth.’

‘I showed you how I decided to burn the fleet. But even before this, I was inclined not to send the ships back for Nolofinwë and his people. I felt obligation to Fingon and those who had fought for us, but I saw no way to take them without taking the rest as well. And at least one of the others had sided with the Lindar: my bratty niece Artanis, later known by the epesse Galadriel because of her gorgeous golden hair. She hated me and had fought at Alqualondë against my people, and had killed a few. Nevertheless, now she wanted a ride on the stolen blood-stained ships because she wanted to rule a realm of her own in Middle-earth. And while she was undoubtedly the most bizarre case, she was not alone. I had spies among Nolofinwë’s people, and knew what was said in their camp. Many of them had repented of the road and had begun to murmur, cursing me and naming me as the cause of all the woes of the Eldar. Nevertheless, they were not returning but wished to continue following me. Nolofinwë himself had prefixed our father’s name Finwë in front of his name, making it “Finwë Nolofinwë”, as a claim to the kingship. This is why he is called Fingolfin in your language. He was also saying that he had the errand to avenge his father, while I was seeking only my treasures.’

‘So I thought that taking Nolofinwë’s people would mean opening a second front, or actually a third one because both Morgoth and the other Valar were already against us. But if they would see the ships burning, they would return to Valinor, which they regretted leaving anyway. Hopefully the Valar would let them back in, otherwise they would have to settle on the rugged coast of Araman. I didn’t care, for I regarded them as needless baggage on the road, or even worse, as potential backstabbers. I would nevertheless relent if I knew that they would walk across the Helcaraxë, but I didn’t think it would happen. By the way, after my return, some of the Valar told me that they approved the Doom as deterrence, thinking that it would scare the Noldor into turning back, and would have never agreed to it if they knew that we would march on and it would really come into effect. Do you see? I had fallen to the level of the Valar at their worst. Nolofinwë led his host across the Ice, where they wandered long in misery. There Elenwë the wife of Turgon was lost, a wonderful person and a true loving wife and mother, and maybe her death made Turgon bitter and prevented him from sparing you. Many others perished also; and it was with a lessened host that my brother set foot at last upon Middle-earth. I guess it was for the better that I was already dead at that time.’

‘Maybe it would have been better if you had left the Lindar alone and had all taken the Helcaraxë,’ commented Lote. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t have the Doom then, and it eventually claimed more lives than the Ice ever could. Not to mention that the Kinslaying had a terrible impact on your morale.’

‘I have also thought so sometimes. However, in this case, we wouldn’t reach Middle-earth in time. Morgoth was already waging a war against the Sindar, and had besieged Cirdan’s people. We came just in time to rescue them. Had we marched across the Ice, he would have taken over all Beleriand except Doriath, and even Melian’s Girdle could not repel him indefinitely. He would wait for us on the other shore and easily drive us back into the sea and then, who knows, maybe he would attack Valinor again to finish what he had begun. Anyway, I don’t think we would have avoided the Doom, because the true reason behind it was our flight, and the Kinslaying was just an excuse. Those who returned with Arafinwë were forgiven even if they were kinslayers, and those who continued were doomed even if they were not.’

‘We settled upon the shore of the lake of Mithrim, and contacted the local Sindar. We started to build alliances and to learn their language. We didn’t say a word about the Kinslaying, because we supposed that it would turn them against us. And indeed, when Cirdan learned about it later, he took care to pass the information to Doriath, destroying any chance for the Noldor to win Thingol as an ally. Only the Northern Sindar, whom Thingol had abandoned and regarded as tainted by Morgoth, accepted us. The other Sindar took the side of Olwë, who had done his best to make sure that no help would reach them, against the Noldor, who were offering such help. They just sided with those who looked and talked like them and were related to them. I wonder sometimes whether I should have confessed to Cirdan, who was otherwise a decent fellow. But you cannot convince people with such a mindset, because it is not rational. If anything would help, it would rather be bleaching our hair to make it like theirs.’

‘I remember this brief time as meaningful true life, though I was devastated by Amrod’s death, and practically all of my people had lost loved ones. But we were free. Now, we have just crumbs of freedom, mercifully given by the Valar after much efforts and negotiations.’

‘It was soon over for me, however, because Morgoth waged the war with full force. We fought his orcs on the grey fields of Mithrim, and despite being outnumbered and taken unawares, we were swiftly victorious. We drove them forth from Mithrim, and hunted them over the Mountains of Shadow into the great plain of Ard-galen. And then I got myself killed in the most stupid way imaginable. Because I would not halt but pressed on behind the remnant of the orcs, thinking so to come at Morgoth himself. I thought that we would vanquish the Enemy and regain the Silmarils, and live in peace and freedom in Middle-earth, and all our deaths would not be in vain. So I drew far ahead of the van of my host; and seeing this, the servants of Morgoth turned to bay, and there issued from Angband Balrogs to aid them. There upon the land of Morgoth, I was surrounded, with few friends about me. The Balrogs had fiery whips much longer than our swords, and inflicted burns on us without exposing themselves to danger. This is how I got my scars. Amnon the Maia, true to himself, found a good use of them to convince you to follow me. He made you think, without outright lying, that I had been whipped in the central square of Alqualondë, or something of this sort. In fact, long before I was reembodied, my brother Arafinwë, whom the Valar made King of the Noldor upon his return, forbade all apology trips of Noldor to Alqualondë because they raised the risk of suicide by a whole order of magnitude. My scars are from that whipping in Middle-earth, which I did not survive.’

Eöl was stunned.

‘But this was in your first life!’ he exclaimed. ‘How can you still have them?’

‘The wounds which have caused the death can be transferred in a lighter form on the new body, if they have left a deep imprint on the spirit. It does not happen often, but is not unheard of. You are not feeling broken bones or torn entrails, are you?’

Eöl was glad that he had not known this fact in the morning, for it would have made him even more anxious. He quickly surveyed his body.

‘I have stomach-ache, but it is not severe. I don’t think I have any tears.’

‘It is normal after the first meal,’ Lote reassured him. ‘You should just sit here for an hour or two more, then the food will be digested and the stomach-ache will subside. Don’t worry!’

‘My friends were soon killed, but I fought on surprisingly long,’ Fëanor continued. ‘I suppose that the Balrogs wanted to take me alive. But as my sons came up with force to my aid, Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, smote me to the ground. Then the Balrogs left me and departed to Angband. My sons raised me up and bore me back towards Mithrim. But as they were upon the upward path to the pass over the mountains, I bade them halt; for my wounds were mortal, and I knew that my hour was come. And looking out from the slopes of Ered Wethrin with my last sight, I beheld far off the peaks of Thangorodrim, and knew that no power of the Noldor would ever overthrow them, for they were vulnerable only to attack from the air; but I would not contemplate flight, nor anything else in that life. My sons wanted to carry me home, or to make a funeral pyre on the spot, but I didn’t want them to expose themselves to pointless risk for the sake of my empty shell. I told them that they’d better hold to their oath and avenge me, and they didn’t need to burn my body because I was feeling it would fall to ash by itself.’

‘So they left your body?’ Eöl remarked. ‘I wonder how the Enemy didn’t hang it upon a pole and parade it.’

‘Sauron later did this to my grandson’s body. But even if the orcs eventually found mine, it was unrecognizable from the burns. It was a miracle that I still had my sight when I died, but I had too little skin left, and my lungs were burned from inside.’

‘The spirit world which I entered was scary. I briefly considered staying unhoused in Middle-earth, but I could sense powerful evil presences. Apparently Morgoth or some of his servants had necromancer abilities. So when I heard the call of Námo, I surrendered immediately. Although he had promised to treat our spirits with little pity, he was clearly the lesser evil.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Valar’s request to Fëanor to sacrifice the Silmarils and himself is striking with the power imbalance (a pantheon of gods vs. an elf) and the long history of abuse of this elf by the same gods, starting in his childhood (the Statute of Finwë and Miriel) and still continuing. In fact, right now Fëanor is forced to attend a mandatory feast while serving a punishment given by them after an unfair trial. This situation – authority figures badgering a powerless person to sacrifice himself to save the world after long abuse, resembles that of Dumbledore and Harry Potter, which is [very disturbing](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/400655/Kalen-Darkmoon).
> 
> Námo in canon does not say why he will keep Finwë for very long, but we can guess it.
> 
> Despite what the Silmarillion narrator says, I see no evidence that Fëanor had daddy issues. His priority - the Silmarils, is reflected in his Oath. And this makes sense. I find it justified for a leader to wage a war where his people would die to regain a vital resource; to avenge a slain king, not so much. 
> 
> The Oath of Fëanor is said to be a destructive force, maybe even inspired by Morgoth. In fact, if it has been inspired by Morgoth, he has shot himself in the foot, because the Oath made the Noldor return to Middle-earth, fight him for 5 centuries, then fight Thingol’s dynasty until the Silmaril reached the Valar, prompting them to intervene.
> 
> There is much controversy around Fingolfin. The first thing he does in the Silmarillion is to insist that Fëanor be disowned in his favor, based on Fëanor’s wish to return to Middle-earth – ironic, because Fingolfin himself later does exactly this. Fingolfin shows goodwill to Fëanor twice while Finwë is alive, and not once later. After Finwë’s death, Fingolfin can remain and rule the loyalists, but instead follows Fëanor, allegedly to mitigate his recklessness. But to do this, he has to stand by Fëanor’s side; instead, he leads a separate host. To me, these facts show that Fingolfin planned usurpation. The Shibboleth gives more data that (to me) settle the question and warrant fics with loyal Fingolfin to be labeled “AU”. I regard him as a generally noble tragic hero whose flaw was his obsession to save the Noldor from his half-brother, which made him start a succession conflict.
> 
> “Let my people go” alludes to the Exodus and _Go Down Moses_.
> 
> Tolkien presents the Alqualondëans as innocent victims; for me, they are despicable, and Olwë is the Worst Elf Ever. Tolkien wrote from an imperial position. I stand at the opposite position. My people, the Bulgarians, have been subjugated by the Ottomans for nearly 5 centuries. Our greatest poet, [Hristo Botev (1848 – 1876)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hristo_Botev), was a revolutionary who led a band of rebels to take part in the [April Uprising](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_Uprising_of_1876). To transport his men across the Danube, he hijacked the [steamship Radetzky](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radetzky%20\(steamship\)) at gunpoint. Nobody was hurt because the captain, unlike Olwë, was sensible and decent. The hijacking is commemorated in a [song](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Still_White_Danube_Undulates) known to every Bulgarian (songs till the end of Arda!).  
> Oppressive regimes restrict the right to emigrate, presenting emigration as treason. For almost half of the 20th century, my country was a communist dictatorship. The regime recruited residents of border regions to prevent escapes, as the Valar did with the Teleri. The caught fugitives, if not shot on the spot, were given prison terms.
> 
> To me, leaving Nolofinwë’s followers on the Ice is the one true sin of Fëanor. But I realize that I am applying a high moral bar. The situation is best described by [Lintamande](https://lintamande.tumblr.com/post/56323742429/fingolfin), to whom I am indebted: _“…This is treason. Finwë would have chosen Fëanor as his successor, the laws... established eldest-son succession, Fëanor’s declared himself the King, and Fingolfin is openly claiming the crown. Of course, hearing this, Fëanor is going to burn the ships. Frankly, anyone hearing this is going to burn the ships (or, at least, not bother sending them back; most people probably have less flair for the dramatic). Why would you risk the lives of half your own crew sending back the ships for someone who is openly and agressively undermining you…?”_ Our hero Hristo Botev didn't purge his ranks of disloyal men, and the bullet that killed him is believed to have come from them.
> 
> My Fëanor, though he is against marriage now, cannot help calling Elenwë a true wife, to compare her to Nerdanel. He is petty here.


	9. Low points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feanor's time in Mandos, and his not-so-happy return to life.

‘Námo was awaiting me. He said that I had been marred by Melkor and had committed many evil deeds coming from his lies, and therefore I would stay in Mandos till the end of Arda. The Maiar led me to a cell, and from that moment on, all I had to do was looking at the tapestries they brought me and reflecting on the past.’

‘The tapestries were selected to show anything that would reflect badly on me and not a lot else. First, the carnage in Alqualonde and the tragedies on the Ice. Then my son Maedhros was captured by Morgoth, and I saw his torture in detail. After some time, which seemed even longer than it really was, Nolofinwë’s host arrived and Fingon rescued Maedhros. There was a brighter period, but the Maiar kindly informed me that the Doom of the Noldor and my Oath would eventually reawaken and bring about their deadly fruit. And they were right. At the battlefields, the Noldor and their allies sustained defeat after defeat, and Morgoth was triumphant. The bodies of our dead piled up, and some were taken alive to suffer an even worse fate. But the worst came when Lúthien and Beren took one of the Silmarils from the crown of Morgoth. You know about them, don’t you? At least, you must have heard Lúthien when she visited Námo to plead for Beren’s return. Unfortunately, neither they nor their heirs would return the Silmaril to my sons, and the Oath would not allow my sons to relinquish it. So more kinslayings ensued…’

‘The Second one was in Doriath, my homeland,’ remarked Eöl. ‘It was her end.’ He had almost begun to sympathize with Fëanor, until he remembered the ruin of Doriath.

‘Yes. This and the attack on Sirion were ultimately my fault, due to my Oath. I wondered for a long time why the keepers of the Silmaril did not return it, but they apparently could not – some of them said so after all was over. Maybe I am to blame for this as well, though if I have made the Silmarils addictive, it has been unintentional. Other possible causes were Varda’s hallowing and the long stay on Morgoth’s crown. I suppose I’ll never know. Anyway, the results were tragic.’

‘You seem to lay some blame on my people for being slaughtered by your sons!’

‘Eöl, your defense of Doriath would have been slightly more convincing if you had not fled her to live in the wilderness, buying your freedom with one of your most cherished works! But I have said nothing about your people, only about their rulers. They put the Silmarils above all other considerations, above integrity, the well-being of their subjects and the lives of their own children. This was my mistake which I regret, and I am rightly blamed for it, yet the same people who blame me leave Thingol, Lúthien, Dior and Elwing off the hook. At least, I was the maker of the Silmarils and my sons were my heirs, while Thingol and his heirs had no claim on that Silmaril other than theft, yet proudly paraded the stolen gem and didn’t care about the torment they caused to the rightful owners. I agree that the irresistible obsession excuses them, because they couldn’t do otherwise; I only wish that the same excuse would be applied to my sons as well. And the Kinslayings were wars, not slaughters. Four of my sons died there, three in Doriath and one in Sirion. All of them except Celegorm, who was killed by Dior in open combat, were stabbed in the back by people who had pretended to surrender. I saw every detail, of course, from many angles. Some Maiar even liked to prolong the impression by telling me beforehand. See Amnon before the Second Kinslaying…’

Fëanor showed the memory: Amnon’s figure, standing in the dim grey light that diffusely illuminated the Halls of Mandos. The Maia’s face was distorted by hatred making it almost unrecognizable.

“Are you happy now, kinslayer?” he asked. “Your good-for-nothing sons, for all their posturing, never managed even to look at the Silmarils, but brave Lúthien faced Morgoth and took one of them. And now your sons, too craven to seek the other two Silmarils from Morgoth, will attack Lúthien’s son Dior the Fair and the peaceful people of Doriath. But the kinslaying will be in vain, for your sons will not find the Silmaril. And three of them will find their well-deserved deaths instead. Which ones would you prefer them to be? Not that the others will have long and happy lives.”

‘Wow!’ Lote exclaimed. ‘This was nasty!’

‘Yes, it was. Eöl cannot grasp it truly, because he has only one child. Amnon is good in finding what will break you, because he understands quite well how our spirits work – far better than Námo. To be fair, after I was released and returned to Formenos, he sent me a letter apologizing for the way he had treated me, and acknowledging that I was not evil through and through as he had thought. It is very rare for an Ainu to say sorry.’

‘But this makes no sense!’ remarked Eöl. ‘We were transparent to them. They could see everything we were thinking. For me, this was the worst thing in Mandos. So he was seeing inside you, and knew very well how evil you were.’

‘He apparently changed his idea of evil. Initially, all Ainur defined good as related to the proper subordination, and evil as rebellion. Good is what Eru wants, then the Valar are as good as they conform to his plan, and our kings are good if they obey the Valar, though in theory Eru sent the Valar to be just guides and not lords or masters of the Children of Ilúvatar. And so on. This was supposed to work in the perfect Arda, which none of us has ever seen. In the Arda Marred we have, it of course boils down to might is right, and the presumed good and evil sooner or later morph into their opposites; because sentient beings tend to want freedom, and on the other hand, sentient beings given power tend to abuse it, all the way down to village guards. So in the old days, Melkor was considered bad not because he had destroyed the Two Lamps of the Spring of Arda and had killed and twisted elves, but because he had rebelled. When Manwë decided to release Melkor, some of the Valar knew that he was not reformed yet clenched their hands and obeyed the judgement of Manwë, because those who will defend authority against rebellion must not themselves rebel – so they throught. By the same logic, when I rebelled, I was considered corrupted by Morgoth and no better than him, even before the First Kinslaying.’

‘Were they just punishing you, or they wanted something from you?’ asked Eöl.

‘They wanted something from me, in due time. Dior’s daughter Elwing together with the Silmaril was rescued from the Second Kinslaying and brought to Sirion, where she later married Eärendil the Mariner. My three surviving sons eventually attacked Sirion – the Third Kinslaying. Elwing escaped with the Silmaril to her husband, and they sailed to Aman. The Silmaril allowed the ship to pass through all barriers the Valar had set around Valinor. And because Eärendil and Elwing were half-Men and the others aboard were Men, they resisted the enchantments designed to kill elves that had until then claimed the lives of many supplicants. The Valar heard Eärendil’s pleading and finally decided to intervene.’ 

‘As you know, the War of Wrath ended with the defeat of Morgoth. Then Lord Námo summoned me and told me that the army of Valinor had retrieved the two Silmarils from Morgoth’s crown, so the Valar finally had all three. He asked me, if the Silmarils were returned to me, would I agree to give them to Lady Yavanna to be broken to rekindle the Two Trees. At that point, I regretted not only my wish to keep the Silmarils but their very creation; for that matter, I regretted all my life, and I wished I had never been born. Moreover, I was reformed according to the Valar’s criteria, that is, I was broken to the point of being unable to say no. I only begged that my two eldest sons and my grandson – the last survivors of my family – were pardoned and not tormented anymore. Námo agreed, and I said yes. I didn’t even think to ask for the reembodiment of my five dead sons – as I already mentioned, I didn’t really believe that it was feasible, though Námo would actually have to reembody me before giving me the Silmarils.’

‘Wait, wait!’ Eöl exclaimed. ‘Something doesn’t fit! Lady Yavanna had demanded the Silmarils before the roots of the Two Trees had dried out, didn’t she? And by the end of the War of Wrath, they had had centuries to dry out!’

‘Well, when the Trees had just gone out and the Valar wanted me to give the Silmarils, they presented the matter as very urgent, but it was not really so. Contrary to the popular opinion, the Two Trees had never been living. They were not trees, just bodies shaped like trees – the proper word is fractal. The processes going on inside them to produce light were the same as inside stars, and were incompatible with life as we know it. So the Two Trees had never belonged to Lady Yavanna’s realm; it was her keen eye that had let to their discovery, but she had never truly understood them. Some of the Valar had better knowledge and knew that the Trees were inanimate and could be reignited at any time. Nevertheless, all of them were pressing me to surrender the Silmarils immediately, without thinking properly over it and taking counsel. As I mentioned before, the entire episode didn’t expose them in the best light.’

‘And why did they want to return the Silmarils to you so that you would give them to Yavanna? Why not give them to her right away?’

‘For two reasons. First, they didn’t want to come out as robbers, especially after I had said that this would prove their kinship to Morgoth. Second, they were afraid of my Oath, and wanted it fulfilled and finished. But the promise to return the Silmarils to me upon the condition that I’d renounce them was an attempt to cheat the Oath. And the Oath wouldn’t let anyone cheat it, but would worm its way and subvert the cheaters. Námo’s plan couldn’t and didn’t succeed. Ironically, the one who ruined it was no other than Eonwë, the herald of the Valar who led their host in the War of Wrath.’ 

‘When news broke out that the Silmarils were retrieved, my sons Maedhros and Maglor sent a message to Eonwë asking for their return. He could simply tell them that the gems would be returned directly to me and the Oath would thus be fulfilled. However, he wanted to make my sons suffer, so he invited them to surrender to be judged, and said that they had lost the right over the Silmarils, and the latter would be sent to Valinor where they belonged. He forgot that he was dealing not with doormats but with elves who had for an age fought Morgoth and anyone else who would keep the Silmarils from them. So Maedhros and Maglor went to Eonwë’s camp, not to surrender but to commit a fourth Kinslaying and fulfill the Oath. Each of them took a Silmaril. As a result of Varda’s hallowing, the gems burned their hands. Maglor threw his Silmaril into the sea and spent ages singing laments at the shore. Maedhros in desperation threw himself together with the Silmaril into one of the fiery chasms that were all upon Beleriand at that time. This made the plan of the Valar void; because, while Lord Ulmo could easily retrieve Maglor’s Silmaril, nothing short of breaking of Arda could produce that of Maedhros. I suspect that only then did Námo fully understand his own prophecy that the fates of earth, sea and air lay locked within the Silmarils.’

‘I was left to rot in my cell. I saw the fiery death of Maedhros, the misery of Maglor who was slowly fading, and the adventures of my grandson Celebrimbor who seemed luckier for some time. Until Sauron deceived him, captured him and tortured him to death. The Doom I had brought upon my descendants had finally destroyed them, and my house had come to an end.’

‘I spent a long time in dark oblivion until a Maia visited me. Have you seen him?’ Fëanor projected the image of a tall figure clad in white which Eöl recognized.

‘Yes, I have,’ he said, ‘though he wore grey when he came to me. He was quite kind. I think he was of Lady Nienna’s people; certainly not of Mandos. I have forgotten his name.’

‘In Aman, he calls himself Olórin. Unlike most Maiar, he does not serve a certain Vala all the time but associates with various Valar at different times, and is often alone. He has worked for Lady Nienna, and this has allowed him to see you and others. But he could not visit me or any other of the Noldor rebels, because our Doom had said that we would find little pity in Mandos. However, this changed after the Third Age. Because Olórin had been among the Maiar sent to Middle-earth to fight Sauron, and had played a leading role in his defeat. So he returned as a hero, and when he asked to visit me, the Valar could not refuse.’

‘He told me that he had good news – Sauron had been thoroughly defeated and reduced to a powerless shadow of his former self. I couldn’t feel any joy, however, and said that this was nice but a little too late. He stared at me and apparently realized that I was also a powerless shadow of my former self. He told me not to lose hope and left. Soon after that, Námo summoned me and subjected me to a very strange questioning.’

Fëanor showed the image of Námo on his throne.

“How is light produced by stars?” Námo asked. He kept silence for a short time, apparently waiting for an answer, then asked: “How do palantirs work?” Another moment of silence, another question: “Why is the sky blue?” Several more followed. With each question, Námo was becoming more anxious, until his expression betrayed true horror. “How much is six by seven? No, it's impossible that you cannot multiply six by seven!”

‘I replied that I certainly could not multiply six by seven,’ added Fëanor, ‘but I was ready to agree with whatever number he’d name as the product, and these things were unimportant anyway. You see to what a wretch I was reduced. I only wondered why Námo was so unhappy to see me thoroughly broken, after he had put in so much effort to achieve exactly this result. He told me that Maglor would be allowed to return to Valinor, my other sons and my grandson would be reembodied, and I would follow them. When I asked him whether Arda was coming to an end, he denied, so I couldn’t figure out what was going on, except that it seemed somehow connected to Olórin’s visit.’ 

‘After that, the Maiar were treated me very carefully, and I was allowed to see my parents. Unfortunately, in the condition in which I was, the latter didn’t bring joy to any of us. I saw on the tapestries how my sons returned, one by one. Then, after some more time, the day of my release came. With a little difficulty, I settled in the body they had prepared for me. After everything that had happened, I expected my family to be angry at me. But – but it was even worse than I had supposed.’

‘Fëanáro’s family had arrived the previous day and spent the night at our inn,’ Lote added. It was a large family of course, and there were four additional people. This was the first strange thing that we mentioned. This, and their strained joyless expressions. Then Lady Nerdanel said that they would not return for breakfast. Well, this made sense, because Fëanáro naturally attracted the curiosity of villagers, and everybody and their aunts intended to drop here innocently to see him. So I understood that the family wanted privacy, and offered them to put the breakfast in a basket. They refused, saying that they had everything they needed. Calarondo offered the cart, but they said they would go to Fëanáro’s sister Lalwen who lived nearby. I thought they had brought horses, and warned them that a newly reembodied person cannot ride. They answered that they had taken care for everything, and left for the gate.’

‘When I stepped out, I went first to Nerdanel,’ said Fëanor. ‘I apologized to her. You see, I was broken, and I still loved her too much. She had left me at my hardest time, had not come to my trial and my exile, yet I felt guilty and apologized. Then I looked at the rest. They were not all my sons and my grandson.’

‘When you are met by your family, it is really your family,’ Lote clarified. ‘Only your nearest and dearest. No family friends and friends of their friends, and certainly no in-laws. Well, there are exceptions – a friend or in-law can join if he is useful, for example, if he drives the cart, or is a healer. The extra people who had come were Elrond son of Eärendil, who had been fostered by Maedhros and Maglor, Celebrian wife of Elrond, Fingon husband of Maedhros, and Gil-galad husband of Celembrimbor. None of them was useful in any way. Elrond was actually a healer, but was not interested in Fëanáro’s well-being – quite the opposite.’

‘Males having husbands?’ asked Eöl, perplexed.

‘My reaction was similar,’ admitted Fëanor. ‘I made a fool of myself. But I was totally unprepared for this, even if I knew that the friendship between Maedhros and Fingon was unusually close. I can say as my excuse that everyone else had given themselves weeks and months to prepare mentally for the concept of such marriages, even the people who were binding themselves by such marriages. I must have looked threatening, because when I took a single step towards Maedhros, the entire circle went for swords which of course they weren’t carrying. I made the mistake of telling Fingon to get out…’ He stopped in the middle of the sentence.

‘I think you are bending over backwards to make excuses for them,’ firmly said Lote. ‘If they were afraid of someone newly released from Mandos, then they had to tell Námo they were not up to the task of welcoming you, and seek mind healers. They went so far that they were angry when you called them their Quenya names, instead of the Sindarin names that you had no way to know. You made no mistake when you told Fingon to get out – he made a mistake when he came, and he knew it all along.’ 

She turned to Eöl and continued:

‘They decided to get back at Fëanáro and teach him a lesson, so when he said he did not want Fingon, they all walked away, leaving him in the dust in front of the gate of Mandos. Then Celebrian returned to scold him. She was most suitable for this, because she was daughter of his old opponent Galadriel, and she was bitter because her own daughter had chosen to be mortal. She reminded Fëanáro that he had been a terrible father, at the same time telling him not to say that he had lost children, because he hadn’t – only she had. Then she finally saw that it was a cold day, and he was still in the shirt from Mandos. She gave him her outer coat, which was actually too small for him to be of much help. And she didn’t lead him away from the gate until he said he was wrong about everything. Of the others, only Elrond and Maglor were waiting. Three of Fëanor’s sons had gone straight home, the rest had descended upon Lalwen’s house. Nobody had prepared any transportation, so they walked for miles, including Fëanáro. When he arrived, the others were drinking tea. Only after they saw Fëanáro looking covetously at their cups, Maedhros gave him one. This was the first thing he put into his mouth after Mandos.’

Fëanáro had listened first with surprise, then with understanding.

‘I first wondered how you could know such details, Lote, given that you were not there,’ he said. ‘But I can make a good guess. You are a lover of books.’

‘Another thing people say about the Vanyar is that we do not read much,’ she replied. ‘But in winter evenings, there is little else to do. And I’m afraid that every library in Aman has Caranthir’s biographical book. It is popular, and he certainly can write well. But I think it was unwise to write all this in a book, not to mention doing it in the first place.’

‘Caranthir cannot put the boundary between historical and personal,’ said Fëanor. ‘That’s why I doubt that historian is the proper profession for him. It was Finrod’s idea. Finrod has a propensity for bad ideas, and nevertheless, people continue to take his unsolicited advice. As for the welcoming party, it turned out that it was planned by those two horrible youths, Elwing’s son and his wife. For me, most difficult to digest was the revelation that Maedhros’ marriage was second for Fingon. You see, Maedhros briefly became King of the Noldor after my death, then gave the crown to Nolofinwë. After Dagor Bragolach, Nolofinwë was succeeded by his eldest son Fingon. Because it was good for the Noldor to have a crown prince, Fingon decided to marry. He chose a lady who was loyal to her bones, and dutiful in her soul, and would not be upset that her marriage was merely a sham. She is not mentioned in the history books, because she passed shortly after her son was born, fighting orcs. In a letter she had written to Maedhros to be delivered in the event of her death, she told him to marry her husband, and said that she had no interest in ever returning to life. To me, this resembled my mother’s story.’

Eöl felt his head whirling. At least, it was a relief that some had been even worse husbands than him.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘but am I getting it right that one of your sons was in love with a male cousin, and when this cousin became King of the Noldor, he convinced some stupid dutiful lady to marry him just to produce an heir? And after that, he sent the young mother to fight orcs, and when she was killed, he married your son?’

‘I’m afraid this is a concise and accurate summary of the facts,’ Fëanor sighed. ‘Maedhros loved Fingon very much, and couldn’t refuse him anything after Fingon rescued him from Thangorodrim. And of course, my poor father had set a bad example.’

‘He at least wanted more children, and here a woman was trapped in Mandos so that someone could have a bizarre wedding party! I wonder how they found time to fight Morgoth, with such complex personal lives!’

‘Fingon’s second wedding was not in Middle-earth but after his reembodiment here. And his wife was not truly trapped, but it was nevertheless difficult for her to get out. Lord Námo never recognized non-traditional marriages, so he was ready to let her return to life, but she refused, feeling bound by a promise. She had grown up in an abusive family where everyone gave her the message that she had no value and was obliged to sacrifice herself for others. When I improved my relationship with Námo somewhat, I asked after her. He said he was fed up with the house of Finwë and their inventing ever new ways to have people stuck in Mandos. The entire story had made him furious, but he could do nothing about it, because the wife did not trust him. Finally, my mother talked with her and convinced her to return to life. I am glad that she is in Formenos now, where people are not treated as chattel.’

‘Tirnel is in Formenos?’ asked Lote. ‘Good news indeed! I am glad that she could finally leave all those abusive relations behind.’

‘She has moved in with Edrahil – do you remember Edrahil? He died with Finrod as a result of another one of Finrod’s bad ideas.’

‘Of course I do! Good for them! They both deserve happiness.’

‘But this was much later,’ said Fëanor. ‘On that day, I only meekly mentioned what my father’s remarriage had done to my mother. Then I pushed this thought aside, because I had to think of myself first, once I had agreed to live. If you have lost the habit, it is striking how much you must put up with just to survive.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protective dad Fëanor: his boys did nothing wrong, or if they did, it was someone else’s fault.
> 
> Though canon sources state that Fëanor will be kept in Mandos until Dagor Dagorath, I don’t think I diverge significantly by giving him an early release. My story continues beyond the point where the Silmarillion narrative stops, and it is common such decisions to be reconsidered. E.g. despite their original statements, the Valar intervened into Middle-earth, the doomed Noldor rebels were allowed to return, with the exception of Galadriel, and then Galadriel was allowed as well.
> 
> Tolkien does not specify the race of the three mariners who accompanied Earendil on the Vingilot, but my headcanon is that they were Men, because they were sent back to Middle-earth.
> 
> After Douglas Adams, every arithmetic question appearing in my sci-fi and fantasy, unless a specific reason dictates otherwise, will have 42 as the answer.
> 
> The description of Fëanor’s “welcoming party” is straight out of SpaceWall’s Celestial Sphere. This entire fic grew around it. I decided to rescue Fëanor, but couldn’t write a redemption arc for any of his family members – it would ring false. Fingon’s former wife (original character Tirnel) and his 2nd marriage are also borrowed. My Fingon would never use an innocent woman and then try to trap her in Mandos in order to remarry, and my Maedhros would never agree to it.


	10. The streets of Tirion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feanor and his brother Arafinwe independently study sociology of suicide. Feanor's research receives unexpected appreciation.

‘My release was conditional. I had to live in Tirion, in the home of my wife Nerdanel. I was only grateful that she had accepted me back. After all, if I had chosen differently, been kinder or more cautious, then she would not have had to be alone for thousands of years. It was a terrible price to pay for marrying someone who made mistakes, that is, me. I felt ashamed for having made her life so difficult. And everyone I knew thought the same. On the day of my release, Fingon had stressed to me that Nerdanel’s life had been very hard. I didn’t even catch the irony of this coming from a person who had taken a wife just to use her as a broodmare, then got her killed in combat and finally secured her prolonged stay in Mandos by remarrying. Nor did I note that the difficulty of staying alone in Valinor was a joke, compared to what we had endured in wartime Beleriand and then in Mandos. To be fair, my wife regretted that she had not come to Middle-earth to be there for our sons and grandson when they had needed her. She never regretted not having been there for me. And despite her loneliness, she had never tried to bring any of us back home. Fingon, for all his faults, had tirelessly pleaded to the Valar to release Maedhros right from the moment of his own release.’

‘Nerdanel kept feeding my guilt. She would often give me an unbelievably sad look and say things like, “Sometimes, when you are alone, it can be very difficult to process your grief. To understand all the ways in which you’ve lost everything and everyone.” Or, “I believe you would rather I be unhappy with you than happy on my own.” Then I felt that all my words were insufficient, every language I had learned or invented was meaningless in the face of what I had done to Nerdanel. Nothing I could write or speak would ever make up for what I had done. I thought that I didn’t deserve her and I always owed her an apology. She said that everything that had ever gone wrong for everyone in this family had been at least a little my fault. I agreed that she was right about everything, and I had never done anything right. I wanted her to ensure that I’d make more sensible decisions from now on.’

‘A classic pattern of abuse,’ remarked Lote, ‘though it is usually the husband doing it to the wife. And it is mind-boggling how much time can pass until the victims realize that they do not deserve this and it is not their fault. Our inn often serves as a shelter for people who have escaped abusive spouses, until they are back on their feet.’

‘Nerdanel was also saying that all were on my side,’ continued Fëanor, ‘and I was an idiot for not understanding it. According to her, Nolofinwë was on my side, and even the Valar were not the enemy. I actually talked with Nolofinwë and tried to see how he was on my side, but nothing came out of it. Each of us said to the other, “I am sorry for everything,” but this didn’t really mean anything and ringed hollow. I had the feeling that Nolo blamed me for the deaths of his children in Beleriand.’

‘As for my own children, I never reconnected to them. They had suffered so much because of me, and were profoundly changed. Alas, a thousand Silmarils would not contain enough light to replace that which had faded from Celegorm’s smile, from Amrod’s laugh and Maglor’s eyes. They didn’t want to see me, and I would not force myself onto them.’

‘Curiously, the family member who was most accepting of me was my youngest brother Arafinwë. He gave me the details of his palantir and told me to call him whenever I needed him. But the need had to be really great for me to call him. The King of the Noldor had more important things to do than babysit his useless criminal half-brother. And his wife Eärwen daughter of Olwë hated me because of the First Kinslaying. In fact, the only time I had been to the palace after my return was when Ara arranged a meeting with Olwë’s ambassador so that I would apologize for the Kinslaying. And it went awry. I said that I was very sorry that I had caused the loss of so many lives. If I had stopped there, it would have been nice. But the ambassador asked me whether I wished to add something about the burning of their swanships at Losgar which had caused so much grief to so many. She smiled sweetly, and I realized that she was gloating about Amrod’s death. Then I smiled also and said that the Valar had rightly told us not to love too well the work of our hands and the devices of our heart, and had advised me to give up the Silmarils for my own good; the same way, the Lindar had agreed to help the war against Morgoth only after losing those excessively loved ships, which proved that the loss had been for the better. Ara was horrified. He feared that a giant scandal would follow, but it never materialized. In fact, as the ambassador was walking away from me in fury, I overheard one of her Lindar companions whisper to her that she got what she asked for.’

Eöl was now regretting that he had made Fëanor tell the story of the burning. Happily, Fëanor didn’t seem to be angry at him as he had been at the ambassador.

‘Days were passing without any change for the better, and without hope. Nerdanel had arranged a tiny forge and workshop for me, but I could not do serious work there – it was more like a playground. There are limits to what one can do with things like magnets and coils of copper wire. I started to suffer from insomnia, a bad sign. Nerdanel could see that I was not well. She started to worry when I was not in sight, and when at night I was out stargazing, she would come to join me. But it was not like in our young days. I remembered how, as her father’s apprentice, I had seen her for the first time, and I had been so distracted by her beauty that I’d almost fallen straight into the fires of the forge. Now, I thought that I’d better had fallen and saved both the world and Nerdanel years of suffering… Eöl, would you give me your palantir for a moment?’

Eöl, surprised, brought out the device.

‘Look at this red button. It is for emergencies. If you see a fire, another accident, a crime, if you or someone else is injured or feeling unwëll, you press it to call for help. And something that they did not tell me when I returned: If it ever seems to you that your life has been a failure and the world would be better off without you, or you catch yourself remembering Mandos fondly, just press the red button. It is no shame to ask for help. It is a shame when people who need help do not receive it and land in Mandos, or maim themselves in an attempt to do it. I think that if Námo had treated me slightly better when I was in his care, I could have become his tenant again.’

Eöl looked at the palantir from different angles.

‘How does this thing work after all?’ he asked.

‘How to operate it, or the underlying principle?’

‘The principle.’

‘When it is on and you talk to it, the sounds and images are written in patterns of invisible waves. They are emitted from the palantir and propagated at the highest possible speed. When they reach the target palantir, they are read by it to produce sounds and images again.’

Eöl put the palantir back into his pocket.

‘How did you pull yourself together?’ he asked.

‘I felt a need to do something to fill my empty days. And it was humiliating that Nerdanel was the family’s sole breadwinner. By her work, she was earning pieces of silver that had become universal items of exchange. She did not want me to go out. She said, “Don’t you dare step so much as a foot outside this house, Curufinwë Fëanáro! Not without me by your side.” I told her that I wanted to work in earnest, and while she was working from home, I apparently could not do so. She tried to convince me that it was perfectly all right for me to stay home till the end of Arda, then snorted that I wouldn’t be able to find work in the city anyway.’

‘In my first life, I had been proud of my work, and even those who hated me praised it. Now, I couldn’t practice my craft, because I had no license. To obtain it, I had to become an apprentice, but this required payment which I could not make because I had no silver. Later on, when I became Lord of Formenos, I made apprenticeship free – in fact, paid by the taxes rather than the apprentice. This is one of the reasons why the best talent is concentrated in Formenos: poor people from all Aman come there to develop and apply their gifts which would otherwise be wasted, and many remain even after they obtain their licenses. But back in those days, I had to seek unskilled work that did not require a license. And I couldn’t find even such work. I’d show up wherever workers were sought, but as soon as the master would look at my papers and see who I was, he’d either send me straight away or acquire an unmistakable expression of self-sacrifice that would make me leave by myself. People were unwilling to hire me, apparently afraid that they’d be condemned by their neighbors or even the Valar. The predominant mood in Tirion was against me, because my supporters and friends had left the city with me and upon their return had been settled on Tol Eressea. Ara once called me, confirmed my suspicions and promised to pay me regularly so that I would not need to work.’

‘I declined his offer, saying that I would stop seeking real work but did not need his silver. Now, the only remaining opportunity was temporary work where I didn’t need to reveal my identity. After disasters and major accidents, volunteers were called to help, and this was the only time when I felt included. Everyone who could hold a spade was welcome, and nobody cared who I was and what I had done ages ago. At other times, I walked the streets and sought random odd jobs to do. At squares where shipments were unloaded, it was common for the recipients to need help in carrying the loads. Also, people often needed someone to repair their roof, fix the plumbing, or paint the house. I would solve the problem, then they would pay me a little silver, and that was it. Doing such jobs without reflecting it in papers was not quite legal, but everyone turned a blind eye.’

‘This way, I learned a lot about the life in the strange new world to which I was returned. I acquired various simple but useful skills, both in doing the tasks and simply in living. For example, I learned where to buy cheap food and clothes, and how to stay clear of the guards. Occasionally, when I happened to come across something outrageous, I called Ara to alert him to it. Doing useful things, even so small, and earning a little silver for Nerdanel gave me some dignity. I was feeling better now, and in the evenings, I tried to read to catch up with new knowledge.’

‘One day, as I was randomly walking the streets, a short slim fellow asked me to help him break into a door. I asked him what had happened. Because few would invite a random person in the street in broad daylight to become an accomplice to a robbery, I thought that this was his own home, and he had locked himself out. But he said that this was the home of his estranged wife, and he was worried because nobody had seen or heard her for three days, and she was not answering calls. As soon as we broke inside, we smelled rotten stench. It was coming from the living room. Two corpses were lying there, one male and one female, and their faces were blue and swollen. They had left a note that they were taking a poison because they were in hopeless love and “could not take it anymore”, so that at least their spirits could be together in Mandos. Knowing Námo first-hand, I found unlikely that he would grant it.’

‘The husband pressed the red button of his palantir. While we were waiting for the guards to arrive, he explained the situation to me. He and his wife had had a strong bond once, but it gradually weakened and finally disappeared over the yeni. So they separated and lived independent lives in different houses. He knew that she had found new love but ignored the affair and would never create any problems for her or her lover. Why or why had she done this, and how would he bring the terrible news to their daughter?’

‘The guards came, carried away the corpses, and wrote down our testimony. Then they demanded us to promise not to reveal that the two deaths were by suicide but to present them as accidental ingestion of poison intended for pests. I refused to promise such a thing. The captain was quite reasonable for someone in his position. Looking tired, he said that at my age and with my experience, I should have already accepted that not everything could be as I wished. But because he did not want to lock me up, and I was a little too complicated as a witness anyway, he would let me go, and everyone would pretend that I had not been there and the husband had broken in by himself. He added that if I disapproved the law, I should discuss it not with him, who was only implementing it, but with my brother – the king, who had introduced it.’

‘He had a point. As soon as I left the guards, I called Ara and demanded to see him. We met and talked on a bench in the palace’s garden. He confirmed that he had banned spreading information about suicides. His reasoning was scary: he didn’t want these cases widely known and talked about, because this produced more of them, giving people ideas. He quietly told me about his life and work, from the dark moment just after the Doom when he forsook our march and turned back to retrace his steps in sorrow. He admitted that he had been initially bitter against me over the mess I had created, but when the Valar saddled him with the job of ruling the Noldor, he gradually started to understand me and relent; and later even felt remorse when he heard of my fate and figured out that he had cursed me long after I had passed to Mandos. The Valar used every opportunity to humiliate him, holding him guilty for ever trying to depart from Valinor and also for the Kinslaying in which he had no part. They made him a vassal of Olwë in all but name, forcing him to sign an unfavorable trade agreement which practically made Tirion support Alqualondë, even as the Noldor were starving during the Great Famine. Even worse was another agreement requiring him to hand over any Lindar refugees back to Olwë. The Valar also kept meddling with the internal affairs of the Noldor, and Ara always had to wriggle and seek loopholes to keep his people safe, even if with bowed heads and broken spirits. He told me that sometimes he bent his arm to touch the midline of his back and make sure that the backbone was still in place.’

‘The broken spirits, however, over time occasionally decided to leave the respective bodies. The Valar were greatly offended by suicides, proclaimed them the most horrendous crime, worse than rebellion and kinslaying, and stressed that the guilty spirits would have it tough in Mandos. However, this was not wholly efficient as a suicide prevention measure. Ara tried his best to find what was bringing people to such desperation, and sought better measures. He provided help for those feeling miserable as best as he could, introduced laws protecting workers to reduce work-related suicides, and banned all forced apologies and attempts to reform criminals, because nothing predisposed to suicide like twisting people into what they were not. However, there were other causes which he was powerless to change. Not all Noldor could get over the loss of their freedom; the fall of Numenor, which closed permanently the path to Middle-earth, had led to a huge spike in suicides. And of course, there were personal reasons, mostly related to love and marriage as with the couple that I had seen. At the end, Ara extracted from me a solemn promise that I would not kill myself.’

‘That day was a revelation to me. I realized that there were other people suffering much more than me, and started thinking of them. This was a turning point. Until then, I had spent my second life thinking of myself. Curiously, putting your well-being first and foremost all but guarantees that you will not be very well. Your experience also shows it.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Eöl, though he suspected he knew what Fëanor meant.

‘I mean your marriage, from the beginning to the end. You hate the Noldor, yet you decided to marry one of them, taking advantage of her vulnerability and fear when she got lost in your domain…’

‘Aredhel was not wholly unwilling!’

‘But your own words imply she was not wholly willing, either. Then you kept her and Lómion isolated from her kin. And finally, your last journey. You were so distressed that you could not think of anyone but yourself. Had you thought of Irissë and Lómion, you’d let them go where they wanted to be, and would return. And had you thought of the people of Nan Elmoth, you’d return to stay with them.’ 

‘The same way, my thinking of myself had made me threaten Nolo with the sword and then leave him on the Ice. After my return, I of course thought of my children besides myself, but couldn’t find any way to help them; actually, staying away from them seemed to be the best I could do for them.’ 

‘Now, I thought seriously what to make of the suicide problem. First, I realized that I had been wrong to blame remarriage for people’s deaths. Indeed, it had been so for my mother and Fingon’s wife, but now I had seen the opposite case, people dying because of lack of remarriage. So it was not remarriage that was the problem. The problem was marriage itself. It was problematic because the Valar had made it irrevocable. The other main cause of suicide, lack of freedom, was also to be left at the feet of the Valar. And apparently nobody but me would do the laying.’

‘I started to collect data about suicides. The official information sources kept silence or lied about them, but poor commoners had their own sources, often more comprehensive and accurate than the official ones. And I checked all allegedly accidental deaths, because many of them were in fact suicides. After a year, I summarized the data in a report and sent it to Manwë, with a copy to Námo. In reply, they forbade me to write to them anymore about this. I thought carefully and decided, after I was not allowed to write, to make future reports nonverbal. I introduced a code, cutting out of paper squares for males and circles for females, painting them on one side in various colors designating the cause of the suicide, and scratching on the opposite side their initials and a symbol of their community: a wheat spike for Vanyar, a hammer for Noldor, and a fish for Teleri. Every year, I put the squares and circles into envelopes and sent them to the Valar.’

‘Nine years passed this way. And in the tenth, I received an order from the Valar to go to the Ring of Doom, just outside Valmar, and explain my messages. Apparently I had got on their nerves. I had not told Nerdanel anything about my research, but now I had to. She was enraged that I had got into such trouble, and said that she would not help me with my travel expenses to the Ring of Doom. I replied that I had not asked her for such a thing. Indeed, while I was giving her most of what I was earning, I kept a little for books and emergency expenses like this one. She said that it was nice of me to keep my pathetic illegal earning while she was providing shelter, food and decent clothes for me, and the silver I was giving her would not suffice for one tenth of these expenses. Then I let my pride get the better of me, as usual, and threw at her all the silver I had, plus the mentioned decent clothes. I put on other clothes that I had bought and that were not quite as decent. Then I left the house without taking even a piece of bread, and very angry at Nerdanel.’

‘I had to appear at the Ring of Doom the next morning, so I was really pressed for time. The Noldor have a habit to help travelers, but nevertheless traveling without silver was no fun. I had various misadventures on the road, but also met kind people who helped me. This driver is worth mentioning.’ Fëanor showed a face covered in sweat and speckled with dust. ‘He took me in his cart for a stretch of the road, and shared his snack with me. I didn’t say my name, but admitted that I was a First Age kinslayer anxious not to be late for his trial for a new crime. He was worried for me, because I could expect a harsher punishment as a second-time offender. He said that he could see on my face that I had not eaten properly a single day of my life, and it was such misery that was really to blame for making people criminals. “Those up” were the guilty ones, and dumping all kings and lords into Araman was needed to make Aman a better place. I mentioned that to me, our king was not quite as bad. The driver said that Arafinwë was nice as a person and clearly had good intentions, but as a king, he was standing at the wrong side of history.’

‘The next morning, I was only slightly late. To my surprise, Arafinwë was there in full regal attire. He asked me angrily whether I had lost my mind, to come late and looking like a tramp. I retorted that I didn’t need him to blame me for things that were none of my fault. We had no more time to talk, because Eonwë summoned me.’

‘So I found myself again in the Ring of Doom, facing the assembled Valar, as when they had sentenced me to exile for threatening my brother. Lord Manwë asked me why I kept sending data about the suicides to the Valar. I answered that I had tried to attract attention to their mistakes bringing elves to suicide. He asked me how I dared to accuse the Valar of the horrible crime of suicide committed by some elves. I replied that these elves, like the children of Hurin, had been brought to desperation by things outside their control. Few would deny that the children of Hurin had killed themselves because Morgoth had made their lives unbearable; the same way, life in Aman was unbearable for many elves. This was because the Valar had denied us freedom and mandated our procreation, a process of which they had only second-hand knowledge. As a result, elves were dying in the so-called Undying Lands. Unfortunately, because elves rather than Valar were siffering from the mistakes of the Valar, the Valar did not acknowledge their own mistakes, and doubled down on them while blaming the consequences on the victims.’

‘As I was speaking, poor Arafinwë was becoming paler and paler. Then Námo asked me whether I was just ranting against the Valar, or really cared for the self-slain elves. If I knew that someone was in desperation and considering suicide, would I shelter him in my home and try to help him? I replied that I could not shelter anyone in my home, no matter how much I wanted to, because I had no home. I was living in the home of my once-wife whom the Valar had turned into my keeper. Neither could I help anyone find a shelter elsewhere, because shelters cost silver, and the Valar had made it impossible for me to earn. I was dispossessed, that is, powerless to do anything, be it bad or good. Then Lady Varda told the other Valar, “I doubt that what we have decided is a good idea.” Námo asked her whether she had a better idea, and she didn’t answer. Manwë told me, “Your wish will be granted – you will no longer be under your wife’s supervision. Kneel!” His herald Eonwë approached me with a sword…’

Fëanor remembered the scene: the magnificent sight of the Valar on their thrones in front, a Maia approaching from left with a naked sword, and a tall pale golden-haired elf with a crown on his head standing at right.

‘But they didn’t behead you, did they?’ Eöl asked. ‘You died only once?’

‘No, they didn’t. They didn’t even have such an intention. But it looked like that, didn’t it? I wondered how they had decided to execute me, after Eru had forbidden them to kill children of Eru. And then Eonwë gave the sword to me, and Manwë ordered me to hand it to my king. Then I was truly horrified. They would make my little brother a kinslayer, and there was nothing I could do about it. I just clutched the sword and sought some way out that did not exist. Ara stepped forward and said, “Trust me. Give me the thing.” I handed him the sword, saying that I trusted him fully, approved his deeds and loved him.’

‘Manwë told me to swear fealty to my king. I was surprised, and wondered what was going on. I said that I am happy to have Arafinwë as my king, but I could not promise to obey him in everything, because some of his laws and orders were coming from them – the Valar, and were unsuitable. Manwë asked me, “So you promise to obey laws and orders as long as you approve them?” Arafinwë said, “With my brother Fëanáro, nothing else has ever worked.” Then he turned to the Valar with the innocent expression of a twenty-year-old, and added, “I am fully satisfied with his words as an expression of fealty. I would not demand from him a formal oath, with his experience. As for the laws and orders – this is the whole point, isn’t it? To create a place that is different. Otherwise, Fëanáro’s domain will become just another place where elves keep slaying themselves.” The Valar looked at each other, then Manwë nodded. Ara tapped me with the sword on the shoulder and proclaimed me Lord of Formenos. That’s how I was given my position – because Námo had got fed up with elves consigning themselves to his Halls, and I happened to be the only one engaged with the problem.’

‘And the sword was just part of the ceremony?’

‘Yes, but I had no idea of this. After the First Kinslaying, the Valar insisted to take away all swords from the Noldor, but Ara objected. He said they were part of our culture, and included them in official rituals. This is just another example how he used every opportunity and fought for every little thing to protect his people.’

‘We two left the Ring of Doom together, and I explained why I had come late and poorly dressed. Ara apologized and took me in his cart on the way back. He insisted to buy clothes for me immediately. I asked him, if he really wanted to help me, to give me a loan instead, otherwise I’d be in the same position as in darkened Alqualondë – forced to steal things that would be absolutely needed for my people to start their new lives. He said that of course he’d provide what we needed. Then he invited me and Nerdanel for dinner. He asked me to forgive her, because she had been overwhelmed by fear for my sake; but now she would be happy to see that I had gained recognition by the Valar themselves.’

‘The trouble with Ara is that he believes everyone has his innate goodness. Nerdanel was anything but happy. She said that the Valar must be crazy, the enterprise will end in disaster, and she will not have any part in it. So I went to the palace alone. At the dinner table, the mood was strained by the efforts of Eärwen to conceal her hatred to me. Ara, however, was very optimistic. He said that elves who had attempted suicide, and others seeking help because of suicidal thoughts, would be given the option to settle in Formenos and be exempt from some of the most troublesome laws and customs. They would come from all Aman, not only from Noldorin territories.’

‘The first settlers were just two dozen Noldor. We found Formenos desolate. Nobody had lived there since we had left after the Darkening. But there was freedom we had not enjoyed since leaving Middle-earth one way or another. Even the need to walk around armed because of the ever-present bear danger felt liberating, because most of us as kinslayers were not allowed to carry arms in other places. We had to find ways to supply ourselves with everything, because there were no roads to the other inhabited territories, meaning that Formenos was difficult to access half of the year and completely inaccessible the other half. The river would supply us with water and fish, the forest with wood and game, and the slopes of the Pelori with ore. We started growing mushrooms, potatoes, other vegetables in greenhouses. Our work was surprisingly productive, partly because too many of the settlers, starting with me, had nothing else in their lives.’

‘Meanwhile, the population was growing fast. My old friends and followers from Eressea, hearing about the new developments, one by one stated that they were feeling extremely depressed and wanted to move to Formenos. Some reembodied Avari joined us. They missed their old freedom, and had never wanted to live in Aman to begin with, but felt some common ground with us because we had been born in Aman and had rebelled. I had never seen Avari in my first life, and I had an idealized image of them as people similar to me, but not as broken. Well, not quite so. While I hated to admit it, the protection of the Valar had allowed us to develop science and crafts. The Avari had been too busy just to survive under the constant threat of Morgoth, and lacking the opportunity to develop evidence-based knowledge, they claimed other kinds of knowledge. The worst were their so-called shamans, allegedly seers and healers. Just look at this one, who was elected by his people to represent them in my council.’ Fëanor showed the image of a brown-haired elf, all tattooed, dressed in furs and with a pair of horns attached to his head attire.

‘And of course, all sorts of people were leaving behind their estranged spouses to live with their new lovers. I had introduced a slight change of the papers issued in Formenos, removing from them the marital status. And in today’s Aman, what is not written in the papers does not exist. So we quietly abolished marriage in the territory of Formenos, with the silent consent of the Valar. Indeed, people were throwing marriage parties when they were moving in with someone, but this was not binding. If they stopped feeling well together, they would separate, and in this case, they would often throw even bigger parties.’

‘Were there… unions like the one between your son and Fingon?’ asked Eöl.

‘Oh yes. Most couples were male – female, but male – male and female – female ones were also common, and there were even more complex configurations of three and more people.’

‘And you did not mind it?’

‘Why should I? It was none of my business what people would do in their bedrooms, as long as it was between willing adults and did not trap anyone in Mandos.’

‘And the sky did not fall when people were finally allowed to live as they wished,’ remarked Lote.

‘In fact, at one time it did – or at least it seemed so to me. It was presumed that just a few marred elves would seek to settle in Formenos with a new partner. And initially they were few indeed. But when the word spread across Aman, it turned out that there was a whole hidden army of lovers. Within months, the population of Formenos swelled to fifteen thousands. It is now much larger, but at that time, we were not ready to welcome so many. There was no food, no shelter, nothing. And unlike the first settlers, many had never left Aman and were not used to hardships. There were pregnant women, mothers with babies. We hastily built huts, put beds in the greenhouses and in the caves along the river. I begged Arafinwë, Ingwë and the lords of Eressea for help…’

‘Not Olwë,’ remarked Eöl.

‘Definitely not. There were no settlers from Alqualondë. Olwë was keeping his people inside the borders at all costs. During the War of Wrath, he sent ships to ferry the army with great reluctance and forbade his mariners even to set foot on Middle-earth, so that nobody would be tempted to remain there. And over the yeni, his obsession to prevent flights had only increased. The first letter I received after the return to Formenos was from him, and it contained a list of missing Lindar with a request to report if any of them would come to my domain.’

‘So I wrote to the other rulers that we were suffering a disaster not seen in peacetime since the Great Famine. They sent food, clothes and blankets, but unfortunately nobody supplied firewood. All our plans for sustainable use of the forest flew out the window. Trees within ten miles were cut down. And this was during the short Northern summer, when life was easiest. I just tried not to think of the approaching autumn and then winter.’

‘Happily, the Valar relented. They made marriage non-binding all across Aman, so that people were free to sever old bonds and form new ones. Those who had come to Formenos only for the sake of love started to return to their home towns. About two months later, our population shrunk to a little more than two thousands, a reasonable number. I felt immense relief when I could finally lift the food rations. Also, I allowed myself to think of my personal life. Ever since I had left Tirion, whenever someone unexpectedly called me or a letter arrived, my first thought was of Nerdanel. But it was never her. Now, I asked myself what use was this so-called wife who had not once but twice refused to come to my trial and then to accompany me to Formenos. I sent her a message that I was severing our marriage, and wished her all the best. And I felt better, as if a scar had finally covered an old painful wound.’

‘Have you mentioned that exactly when things seem to go well, something nasty comes out of the blue? Must be a law of nature. As we were gradually putting Formenos in order after the lovers’ departure, the captain of the guard came to me: “My lord, we have a problem. There are forty-eight people without valid papers. Some claim to have lost their papers in the chaos of the last months, and some present obviously forged ones. And all of them say they are Sindar, but speak like Lindar of Alqualondë.” The name of the city that had once been my doom had come to haunt me again, like a bad omen coming true.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I am finally leaving canon and other sources behind and continuing into uncharted land.  
> Passages about Fëanor and Nerdanel in this chapter are borrowed from another work of SpaceWall’s _Dawn_ series, [_Nerdanel the Wise_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431699?view_full_work=true).  
> A society as advanced as the one described cannot function without money, but I didn’t want to introduce the word “money”. The idea to use “silver” as a synonym for “money” came from French, where the same word (argent) has both meanings.


	11. The gathering of the clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you decide to accept refugees, you must be ready to deal with whoever or whatever has made them seek refuge. And it may not be pretty.

Eöl couldn’t make sense of what he had just heard.

‘But why would people of Alqualondë come to you, the author of the Kinslaying?’ he asked.

‘The usual reason, for lack of a better alternative. Besides, they had seriously thought that I wouldn’t find out who they were. Some of them admitted it,’ replied Fëanor and showed a memory. A group of silver-haired Teleri, flanked by Noldor guards, were standing in a hall. They were staying close to each other, and their faces betrayed desperation. Half of them were women, and Eöl saw also several terrified-looking children. The youngest one, a boy looking no more than six years old, gazed at Fëanor as if seeing a monster. A dark-haired Noldorin woman who had been standing next to Fëanor approached the child, knelt and tried to console him.

‘This meeting was just after we identified all of them, with the help of Olwë’s lists,’ said Fëanor. ‘They had presented themselves as lovers, but in fact none of them was with someone else’s spouse. Some could well marry under current laws, the rest were spouses, friends, relations. Look at the couple behind the little boy. They had said he was their child born out of marriage, but in fact, they were a big brother, his sister, and their baby brother. They said I was obliged to accept them. This enraged me, and I replied that their people always think the world owes them but I don’t owe them a thing, for the Kinslaying has been paid in full; and they knew it themselves, and therefore had tried to hide who they were...’

‘Why did you bring the children?’ asked Eöl with indignation. ‘Why frighten them like this?’

‘Because children cry too loud if locked up separately,’ explained Fëanor. In his memory, the boy’s sister started talking with a trembling voice:

“You did not understand us. We did not mean that you owe us specifically, just that Formenos was said to accept troubled people from all Aman, and Alqualondë is in Aman. But because you have always despised us, and we suppose that you are afraid of Olwë like everyone else, we lied about our identities. We hoped to hide among the other newcomers, to blend in and start new lives. We gambled and we lost. I hoped that you’ll have a bit of pity at least to the children, but apparently your hate runs too deep.” Her big brother, standing next to her, was nudging her to make her shut up.

‘I replied that I had once invited Alqualondëans to come and live free with us, but they had said that they desired no other home but Eldamar and no other lord than Olwë, and now when it was too late, they were coming and asking for help which they had refused to us by force,’ said Fëanor. His words created some commotion among the Teleri. One of them stepped forward and said firmly:

“Only five of us have fought you to defend the ships. I was one of them. In fact, I was killed then.” Four other refugees raised their right hands to show that they had been the others. “Our wives had no part in this, and the rest were born later. And I am sorry, but you also didn’t manage the things well. You gave us only four hours to make up our minds to rebel against our king and the Valar, uproot our lives and sail into the blue. Four fucking hours! Could you take such a decision in so little time, genius as you are? There was just one thing clear, that you were taking our ships, our livelihood and most prized possessions. I am a shipwright. I guess no Noldo has ever been too attached to the work of his hands! And because of that single night, we and our descendants must suffer till the end of Arda!” He bit his lips and shook his head.

“He is right,” said a younger refugee. “You and Olwë together made that mess. After it, Olwë was so much empowered that even a tornado could not remove him from the throne. And now, you are saying that because our fathers ages ago made a mistake and squandered our only chance to be free, we must return to the cage? Guess what: I have been in the fucking silver mines once, and I am not going back. I’d rather take the shortcut to Mandos. And it will be on your conscience, if you have any.” A maiden was holding his arm and nodding vigorously. 

The memory faded. Pity filled Eöl’s heart. These people were his kin. They looked like him, and their speech was much more understandable and pleasant-sounding than that the Quenya of the Vanyar and the Noldor. And they apparently had lost all hope, for they were not even trying to be polite to their captor.

‘Mining used as punishment?’ he asked. Fëanor nodded.

‘The Lindar have excellent silversmiths. But better don’t think where the material comes from. You see, the lad would rather become another square than resume this work.’

‘Did you return them to Olwë?’

‘Are you joking? To Olwë I wouldn’t deliver a pack of orcs. But I surely preferred that they had not come, and wished them away. I asked whether they had considered settling somewhere in Araman. They replied that over the years, others had escaped by boats and had tried to settle on the coast, including Araman, or on various islands. However, none of the colonies had survived for more than three years. Hearing this, I realized that these unfortunates would be a curse to all who would harbor them, and I was already under another curse and didn’t need a new one upon it. The Doom, among other things, had stated that to evil end would all things turn that I’d begin well; but I had hoped that the evil end would come somewhat later.’

‘Feeling down, I went alone to the remnants of the old fortress. It had not protected Formenos from Morgoth’s attack, and we knew that any future attacks would be by enemies against which it would be of no use, so we had decided not to rebuild it. Some of the stones were used for new constructions while others were lying scattered, covered by moss and lichens. The ruins resonated with my mood. My innermost self, the bitter, selfish, love-starved child that I’d never truly outgrow, was unhappy. And he was dangerous when unhappy, because he had no qualms, no inhibitions. I think this was what my niece Galadriel meant when she said that she wouldn’t give any hair to me because she was sensing darkness in my heart. I had darkness in my heart even before Morgoth had set foot in Tirion, and I wouldn’t want it to disappear because it was a too crucial part of me. Without this self-centered child and his fierce drive to prove himself, I’d be just a reasonably good smith like so many others. But I would not let him usurp me entirely, as had happened before. I had to give him his due, so that he would not claim more. I sat down on the stones, hugged my knees – his favorite position – and cried together with him. Yes, people were nasty, yes, the world was unfair. Finally, he was lulled and I returned to my depressingly empty house. I had hired before a husband and a wife, both survivors of Angband, as servants, but apparently even this light work was too hard for them. They soon felt exhausted and unwell, and I had to dismiss them, so I had no one to lift my spirit as I was stepping on another downward spiral.’

‘Very soon, another message arrived from Olwë. He knew exactly which wayward subjects of his resided in Formenos, and demanded their return in no uncertain terms. I asked him to allow them to remain in Formenos or settle elsewhere, because they didn’t want to return to Alqualondë. Olwë of course refused. He reminded me that my previous conflict with him had not ended well for me and mine, and promised that it would be even worse this time. His letter was so full of threats that the captain of the guard was concerned about my safety. To reassure him, I improved my weapons and bought a large guard dog, though I didn’t expect Olwë to send attackers.’

‘What did you expect him to do, then?’

‘To plead to the Valar to destroy Formenos. This matter was too important to be decided by me or the council, so I called an assembly of all residents. I told them that returning the refugees was off the table, so there were two options. We could keep them in Formenos and prepare for the worst, or I could resign and take them away to the wilderness so that Formenos would have a chance to survive. There was a very heated dispute. Some called me mad for my readiness to ruin our home for the sake of people who were our unfriends and whom none of us had wanted. However, I received unexpected support from some of my old friends and followers. They said that Formenos had been set as a refuge for all freedom-loving elves, and it would be a shame to engage in a petty revenge against the five veterans of the First Kinslaying and an even greater shame to judge the other refugees because of their appearance, speech, and where they were coming from. A native of Formenos back from the Years of the Trees added that this place had seen death and defeat before, but unlike most other places in Valinor, it had never seen shame. So when it came to voting, the decision to keep the refugees in Formenos received overwhelming support. I told the assembled people to prepare to return to towns where they had lived before, because those who would stay were unlikely to make it for long.’

‘I don’t understand,’ admitted Eöl. ‘Why did you wish to stay in Formenos and bring ruin to it? Why didn’t you leave with the refugees, after you expected to die anyway?’

‘It was about making a statement. It was important that the people of Formenos decided to accept the refugees. Otherwise, it would be said that it was just me going mad again. As for bringing ruin to the place, this would be nothing new. We all, except some of the youngest, had lost homes more than once. And though I called Formenos home, my true home was a hut by Lake Mithrim, abandoned and destroyed ages ago. There I had been free, if only for a short while, and there my heart belonged, though even the land where it had stood was now lying under the waves.’

Eöl remembered his home in Nan Elmoth, and imagined fish lurking in its ruins. Lote looked at him, then turned to Fëanor and asked:

‘What did your king think? Didn’t he give you any orders?’

‘He wrote me either to send the refugees to Olwë or to let them go wherever they wished, but not to destroy Formenos because of them. He could not give me orders, however, because he knew I would disobey. Maybe he regretted granting me the freedom to decide. I asked him to try and find some place for the Avari, who had very peculiar customs and had difficulties living among other elves. I would not abandon my task until the bitter end, if bitter it must be, but there was no reason for them to follow me to Mandos.’

‘But you said before that Eru does not allow the Valar to kill his children!’ pointed out Eöl.

‘Yes, but as we try and find loopholes in the rules imposed upon us, so do they. And some of the loopholes are large enough to drive a caravan through. For example, the Valar are not allowed to lie, and this is very important, for it makes negotiations possible. However, care must be taken to make them speak directly, because they like to speak obliquely and mislead us. I have already told how they stated to me that we were free to leave Aman, at the same time suggesting to Olwë to withhold from us the practical means to leave. Later on, Lord Ulmo told Turgon that the hope of the Noldor lied in the West, and it made Turgon send many messengers to Valinor to beg for mercy, but Valinor was hidden, and all messengers save one died. It is the same with the killing. The Valar would not kill children of Eru directly, but over the ages had made sure that countless children of Eru died at the hands of Morgoth and his servants. And if there was no handy Dark Lord to do their dirty work, there were still the elements. The Valar are forces of nature personified, and incarnates can exist only in a frighteningly narrow range of conditions. So I was not surprised when Eonwë visited us with a message from his overlords...’

A memory image showed the Maia standing in a square in front of a large assembly of various elves.

“New research has shown that under the Sun, the climate of Formenos is too unstable,” he proclaimed. “Very harsh winters at irregular intervals make long-term habitation of the region impossible. For that reason, you all are ordered to return to your previous homes before the beginning of the winter. Curufinwë Fëanáro, you are responsible to organize the departure in a safe and orderly way.” He stared at Fëanor, apparently listening, then said: “No, you are not allowed to relocate as a community. The Valar have spoken!”

‘So I told my people to retreat to where they had come from, and be strong and try to stay out of Mandos’ continued Fëanor. ‘Ideally, only the refugees and I would remain. Their children posed a difficult problem. An adult can choose to die, but a child is another matter. I even considered sending them back to Alqualondë; after all, they would not be punished as severely as the adults. Happily, a better solution was found. I had – and still have – an advisor brilliant in dealing with paperwork. She plows through mountains of it and asks for more. You saw her, the lady comforting the little refugee boy. She said a single word, “adoption”. The Lindar children had to find new parents urgently and would be safe.’

‘So the refugees gave their children to be adopted by… kinslayers?’ asked Eöl.

‘They would if necessary, because parents – I mean good parents, not folks like you and me – do what is best for their children. But there were some Sindar who were better suited as adoptive parents. The procedure was done meticulously in accordance to the laws valid in all Aman, and included the signatures of seven witnesses in red ink. Then the children departed to Eressea with their new families. Most Noldor were also leaving for Tirion or Eressea, though with great reluctance. I talked to my friends one by one to convince them. I told them that the fewer people would remain, the higher would be their chance to survive, because each of them would have more food and firewood.’

‘There was no time to lose, because winter was coming early. My dog, whom I had named Huanion in memory of Huan, could no longer endure outside, and I brought him inside the house. The refugees had settled in homes abandoned by their owners, but had problems doing the daily tasks in such a cold weather, so we decided to move them in with old residents of Formenos. I took the shipwright and his wife, the former miner and his beloved, and the siblings who had given their little brother for adoption. They started making a boat for me to express their gratitude.’

‘We, the few who would stay, were fortifying the houses, planning the distribution of resources, making calculations “till coming of spring”, but all the time I felt like a commander preparing a last stand. Of course, many from Tirion were calling and telling me to yield and return. Some of the calls were unexpected. Turgon said that he understood me, because he had also been reluctant to leave Gondolin, but this had been a mistake, and he was asking me not to repeat it. My sister in-law Earwen begged me to abandon her unfortunate compatriots – nobody could help them, because her father Olwë was relentless and had the support of the Valar. She apologized for the way she had treated me, said she had been wrong about me, and invited me to return to Tirion and be her guest until I would find a new home.’

‘Huanion had apparently caught a bad cold. There were no animal healers in Formenos; in fact, at that point no healers of any kind had remained. I placed him in front of the fireplace, but nothing could keep his body warm, and he died. I didn’t want to use precious firewood to burn the body, and no one digs graves in the northern winter – it would be nothing like usual digging, more like mining; so I brought Huanion outside the town and piled stones over his body.’ 

‘The next day, Nerdanel called, with our sons sitting next to her. She admonished my stubborn resistance and asked me to renounce my pride and self-righteousness. I had been wrong to stand against my father’s friend Olwë once and bring doom upon the Lindar and my loyal Noldor, and I was wrong again now. I said that these refugees, quite like me and my people in times long gone, needed acceptance. My sons objected that the forty-eight Lindar, like us after the Darkening, had better have stayed home rather than flee and become refugees. Nerdanel added that the problem with me was that I never knew when to give up, though deep down I was aware that this was a mistake – the sadness in my eyes betrayed me. I said that my dog had just died, of course I would be sad, but I didn’t expect her to understand this. Celegorm asked whether our situation was already as bad to force us to kill and eat dogs. I assured him that it was not yet so bad, and the dog’s death had been natural. We talked a little about my loss. He was moved when he heard that I remembered his Huan and had named my dog after him. Then Celegorm said that I should not feel bad if I am compelled to use Huanion for food – all hunters love the animals they kill and eat; and even if I would not eat such meat, it could prolong the life of someone else. I liked that he no longer argued for my surrender, and said “prolong” rather than “save”. It was like seeing a glimpse of my son as he had been before.’

‘When the river froze, a caravan came from the south. It was sent by Arafinwë to evacuate the population of Formenos, and was led by no other than our brother Nolofinwë.’

A memory vision showed an elf dressed in blue and standing in front of a crowd of a few hundreds at the same place as Eonwë before. Eöl looked at him with excited curiosity that pulled him inside the memory. After all, this was Fingolfin, the once High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth and Eöl’s father in-law – well, former father in-law. His posture and gestures still carried royal dignity, his garments were richly embroidered and his hair carefully braided, but otherwise he looked astonishingly similar to Fëanor.

‘I’d never guess you two are half-brothers,’ Eöl said. ‘You are more alike than most true brothers.’

‘Yes, we are more similar than either of us wished to admit,’ agreed Fëanor. ‘We both are spitting images of our father. Except that Nolo is taller, that’s from his mother.’

“Hearken unto me, residents and guests of Formenos!” called Fingolfin and outstretched his right hand holding a piece of paper. “This is an invitation by King Arafinwë to all Avari. He has reserved for them a beautiful green place west of Tirion, where they can live according to their customs and without any taxes. The rest of you should return to their homes or go to another place that would accept them. No one should remain in Formenos. The Valar have spoken that the winter of this place is deadly. They will take care for it to come true. Don’t stay here! I have seen many die of cold and starvation. There is nothing noble or glorious in such a death, believe me! Or are you hoping, like us when we went into exile, that at least your deeds will live in songs? By now, you should know that it is the winners who write the songs, and you cannot win. You have no idea how your resistance is portrayed in the rest of Aman. The name of my brother Fëanáro is being dragged through the mud once again. People say that the First Kinslaying has not been enough for him, and now he is conspiring against King Olwë with a bunch of Noldor kinslayers, Lindar traitors and other scum. They also say that he is so power-hungry that he’ll stop at nothing to be a lord, even if over nothing more than a pile of corpses; and you who follow him are viewed as incurably stupid. So if you stay, only the winter winds will sing of you, with no one there to hear…”

“Good for the Avari, but for us you have nothing to offer,” cried a Noldo from the audience. “If we decide to die here, this is our choice and none of your business!”

“Choice, you say! But who in his right mind would make such a choice? My brother is not in his right mind and has never been. This is not his fault. His mother was sad instead of happy after giving birth to him – so sad that she died and then refused to return. It was a mistake of the Valar to make him lord, and I told them so right away, but they have never understood illnesses of the spirit until too late. So he has good intentions, but combined with his madness, they will bring death. And you, like the Noldor of old, choose to die with him out of misguided loyalty…”

Fëanor froze still the memory and turned to Eöl:

‘You know, sometimes you see or hear something small, and suddenly a lot of things that have puzzled you fall to their places and become clear. So as I was staying there, in the middle of my little crumbling domain, I understood Nolo. He had considered me not only mad but with madness running into generations, inherited from my poor mother. He had been living in terror that if some misfortune befell our father, I’d lead the Noldor off a cliff. That’s why he had tried so hard to usurp me. And that’s why he had lied to me in front of Manwë’s throne – of course you are not bound by a promise to a madman, you just say anything that will calm him down and prevent him from going berserk. In fact, after I pulled my sword at him, my brother could make a strong case that I should be dispossessed because I was too unstable to be in charge of anything. But then our father would likely make my eldest son Maedhros heir to the throne, and Nolo was afraid that my sons had inherited the bad blood from me. But he was wrong about my mother. It is perfectly normal for an elf to fade from unbearable bodily pain, especially if more of it is in store – because my father had made it clear that he wanted more children. My mother is quite sane, in fact so sane that she does not like me very much. I have now the right to visit her – oddly enough, won by Indis of all people – and I see her when I come here, but we lack a true bond. She is a good, pious woman. She liked me best when I was freshly released from Mandos, reduced to a doormat and repenting for everything I had ever done, been or wanted.’

‘I understand his reasoning,’ said Lote, ‘but I find it funny that it comes exactly from your brother. Because… I like Lord Nolofinwë very much, but I have never seen him as a paragon of common sense. You two are quite alike – even Eöl saw this at first glance.’

‘Yes, but mad people are not very good at introspection, are we? Nolo’s final yeni before his death were a repeat of my life – he rebelled against the Valar, his pious wife left him, he defied the Doom, led his followers to Middle-earth against the will of the Valar, and fought Morgoth to the bitter end. If anything, he surpassed me: he crossed the Ice which I deemed too risky, proposed a frontal attack on Angband in a peaceful and prosperous time, without having any advantage that could grant success, and when worse times came upon him, he chose death willingly. Indeed, it was a glorious death, and I envy him for it, but nevertheless I’d mark it with a square. For some reason, I look crazier than I am, and he more stable than he really is. When I heard of our father’s murder and ran away to cry alone, everyone feared that I’d kill myself. By contrast, Nolo could do any folly and people would still consider him balanced and prudent. Recently, a young scholar asked to test me, because she was doing research on madness. I said that I’d agree to participate only if the same test was done on Nolofinwë and the results were made public. It turned out that we two shared an inborn predisposition to madness, apparently inherited from our father.’

Eöl looked Fëanor into the eyes and said firmly:

‘I understand that your brother has caused you a lot of grief, but this was a lowly revenge. I think he cared for you, despite everything. I wish I had a brother.’

‘Revenge? Not at all, though it indeed came as a shock to Nolofinwë. I have chosen him as my successor, and I wouldn’t want him to take over without knowing himself and accepting his flaws. Besides, once this field of research was developed, such inconvenient truths could be revealed at any time, and I wouldn’t want them to be used against my brother. The inheritance of the House of Finwë isn’t material for blackmail.’

‘You made him your heir?!’

‘When he said loudly that I was mad and so had been my mother, I saw some absent-mindedly picking stones. My people are usually tolerant to dissenting speech, but decided that he had gone too far; and of course, the imminent end of Formenos was making everyone nervous. I intervened and told them to leave him alone. Then I stood next to him and explained, both to him and to the audience, that I had been made Lord of Formenos because I had stood for these people when nobody else had, therefore I might be mad but I didn’t find myself undeserving. Then my brother Nolofinwë had also stood for them: for their sake he had confronted the notoriously touchy Valar, had taken the trouble to lead the caravan all the way to Formenos, and now was standing alone in front of my followers defending an unpopular opinion. Therefore, if my word would have any weight, I called all those present to witness that I’d wish Nolofinwë to become Lord of Formenos after me, for I suspected that the place would become inhabitable again as soon as we’d be gone.’

‘This must have been quite a surprise!’

‘Everyone was taken aback, Nolofinwë most of all. About his message, I fully agreed that everyone who could leave should do so. I told the Avari that King Arafinwë had worked very hard to secure a home for them, and they were obliged to give it a try; a refusal would be a violation of hospitality, which I knew was important in their culture. And after all, if the situation would become unbearable, Mandos was accessible from everywhere and at any time. My only reason to stay and defy the Valar was that some people had placed themselves under my protection and had no home other than Formenos, or at least none where they were welcome. And then my brother started talking about this.’

The memory animated Nolofinwë’s image again.

“I see Lindar here,” he said, “and I wish to ask them what they intend to do. They started this all, and it does not speak well of them.”

“Are you implying that we are to blame for having a horrible king imposed upon us?” asked a silver-haired elf from the audience.

“You are to blame for tolerating him. He is your king, deal with him! Instead, you are spreading your misery to others. Your city has become a mess, and instead of clearing it, you just walk away from it and impose yourself upon others to become their problem.”

“And how are we to deal with our king?”

“As far as I know, your preferred weapons are bows and harpoons, but the details are yours to choose, depending on the circumstances.”

“Are you recommending a kinslaying?!”

“Yes, I am. And please don’t say that you are above these things, because Fëanáro and many others can testify otherwise.”

“King Olwë has impenetrable guard…”

“I don’t believe it is impenetrable. I suppose it is impenetrable only if you wish to survive. A single hero willing to sacrifice himself for the freedom of his homeland would be enough. Let’s say one more for backup, then two. And others must put the city in order before Olwë comes back. Now, how many of you are going to die here in vain – thirty? Forty? How many have already died in the mines or on his ships? Let’s face it, there is no other way! The union between Olwë and the Valar is sealed with blood, and nothing short of a direct command by Eru can break it!”

Eöl was impressed, for he had heard people describe Fingolfin as kind, peaceful and patient, at least for a Noldo. He turned to Fëanor:

‘No offense meant, but I suspect that if I decide to approach Aredhel, it will not be you who will slay me!’

‘I suspect the same!’ laughed Fëanor. ‘Though I believe there won’t be an occasion. My brother is no-nonsense! He fought Morgoth and inflicted eight wounds on him! He’d finish a creep such as Olwë before breakfast. But it is not his business to deal with other people’s rogue kings. So he tried to shame the refugees into becoming kingslayers, or at least leaving Formenos.’

Nolofinwë in his memory raised his voice:

“Instead of solving your problem, you ran away from it. You took advantage of my brother’s nobility and his wish to amend his old mistakes. He had made this place a nice refuge for troubled people, and now it is dying because of you.” He suddenly looked old, desperate and very tired. His voice cracked. “I am sick of seeing every good deed end in disaster, and every remotely nice place the Noldor ever had turned to ruins! And I don’t want to lose my brother again!”

Fëanor of the past approached his brother. The one from the present continued his tale:

‘The Avari agreed to leave. So did the old followers of Nolofinwë, seeing how unhappy he was. Anyway, their experience and knowledge would be of little use to us, because the situation was different. They had survived on the Ice by hunting seals and white bears, and there were none of these in Formenos. I asked the Lindar not to do stupid things, for though the idea of kingslaying was not that bad by itself, if it had not come to their minds earlier, then it was apparently not their way and would not succeed. We were in this together, and it was too late to change course.’

‘The next morning, the caravan departed. Those who would remain were tossing into the wagons farewell letters and all sorts of cherished belongings – books, musical instruments, tools, jewelry, tapestries and other works of craft and art. Pet owners handed their pets to departing friends. I would have done the same with Huanion if he were still alive.’

‘Despite Nolo’s dark mood, his mission was actually a success. More people were leaving him than remaining with me. Those who stayed were the adult Lindar refugees and a bunch of Noldor who had for ages hated living in Aman – a total of one hundred twenty-two diehards.

‘Or rather one hundred twenty-three. Because, as the caravan headed south, its movement lulled the Avarin shaman into a nap. He had a dream in which the spirit of the land told him that the Chieftain – as the Avari called me – needed him. He woke up, hastily explained the revelation to his fellow travelers and jumped off the wagon without even asking them to stop. Then he walked back to Formenos and miraculously reached it the same evening without major incidents.’

‘Three days later, we had a heavy snowfall. Now, even if someone would change his mind and want to leave, it would be too late. Formenos was cut off.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is borrowed from _The Hobbit_.  
> This plotline was not included in the original plan of the work, but then I decided to include a little more extra-canon adventures; and I didn’t want to leave Alqualondëans as we last saw them.  
> The persecuted refugees bringing trouble to the town welcoming them remind the Greek myth of the Danaids, therefore I made the refugees 48, close to the 50 Danaids.  
> My Fingolfin owes big thanks to reader [Calairiel_Mairomiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calairiel_Malromiel/pseuds/Calairiel_Malromiel), because a discussion with her under one of the [earlier chapters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164728/chapters/72215325) inspired me to write his post-embodiment arc.  
> In Tolkien’s writings, both Fëanor and Fingolfin are tall and physically resemble their father. As far as I know, no canon source compares their height. However, it is a very popular headcanon that Fingolfin is taller. I have accepted it also, first, because Indis was taller than Miriel, and second, because my Fëanor is distinguished in spirit but fairly average in body.  
> It is said in the Silmarillion that Manwë confirmed that the deeds of the Noldor rebels would be glorified in songs, but where are these songs? As far as I know, not one is mentioned in any canon source. We have only songs about how pathetic the Noldor were, e.g. the Noldolante and that part of the Lay of Luthien where Finrod tries (of course unsuccessfully) to outsing Sauron.  
> “The winter winds will sing of you, with no one there to hear” is borrowed from _The Rains of Castamere_ from the _Game of Thrones_.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea about this text grew out of SpaceWall's _Dawn_ series, especially _Celestial Sphere_. My views, however, significantly differ from those expressed in the prototype work.


End file.
